


Lover Boy.

by tommythetommo



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:55:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 25,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26228290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tommythetommo/pseuds/tommythetommo
Summary: Jimmy is Thomas' happy ending and instead of a suicide attempt, we get a reunion. Three days and two nights they share after a long time apart. Plus the aftermath.
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Jimmy Kent
Comments: 10
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is heavily influenced by my delirious idea that Thomas Barrow would be a huge fan of Freddie Mercury. I was tempted to just make it Thomas performing Bohemian Rhapsody slam-poetry style. But I made this instead and settled for dropping a few quotes and stuff. Enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d say it starts slow, but it gets lighter as it progresses.

Anna was the one to fetch the letter and bring it to Thomas. She found him in the servants’ hall, sitting on his chair by the fire, pretending to read the newspaper while sulking in solitude. 

‘‘Evening, Mr Barrow.’’ She greeted with a kind smile but careful tone. One always had to test the waters first, with Thomas. 

‘‘Good evening to you too.’’ He looked up, but didn’t return the smile.

‘‘I have something that might cheer you up.’’ She smiled fully now, hands behind her back.

‘‘Have you? Why? Has everyone in this house finally gone mute?’’

‘‘Not quite. Although it is nice to know the kind of things bring you joy.’’ She stretched her arm, offering the little envelope. Thomas gave her a sly smile.

‘‘Oh, good. A letter from my potential workplace, what a nice reminder I’m not wanted here.’’ He assumed, voice loaded with sarcasm. He took the letter but didn’t open it.

These were weekly reoccurrences, where he would be having a good enough time, practicing the whole Being A Nicer Person And Overall Decent Co-worker (Mrs Baxter’s little project) and something or other would remind him that he needn’t, because he’d soon be gone and no one would miss him, anyway. It was a hard job, ridding himself from all the bitterness and resentment, especially when being tested for them on the daily. But he did try. He’d spent his life pushing people away, being distrustful and ruthless, only to end up alone and realise he didn’t like it. So now he was trying out this _kindness_ issue and some days it paid back, it almost suited him. But on the days where he didn’t have it in him to lie to himself, he felt just as miserable. 

‘‘No, that’s not it.’’ She clarified with a shake of her head.

‘‘Well, how do you know, then? Have you opened my correspondence?’’ He accused with a frown.

‘‘Now, don’t be like that, Mr Barrow.’’ She scolded him a little. ‘‘I only read the name as I picked it up, I think you’ll be glad.’’ She smiled finally and turned to leave, so he could be alone to read it. Thomas eyed the envelope until he found the sender. When he did, he managed not to have a visible reaction but his heart started pounding fast. He didn’t wish to be caught hyperventilating over word from Jimmy, so he stood and left for his room. Anna saw him pass and smiled to herself, hoping nothing bad was in that message, Thomas deserved good news.

In the privacy of his room, Thomas sat on the cot and opened the envelope after a few calming breaths. It’d been so long. Jimmy had been true to his word when he left, and attempted to write and keep contact. But he also hadn’t been lying when he said he wasn’t good with words, and chose to keep his letters few and far between. So the last one Thomas could remember (and he didn’t need to try too hard, as he kept them all and went through them every once in a while) arrived over seven months ago, and he’d since come to terms with the idea that he’d never hear from Jimmy again. Objectively it wasn’t a big loss, since Jimmy’s letters weren’t of great substance and Thomas couldn’t bring himself to tell him about his darkest worries, either, settling for trivial matters instead. But it was his only tie to his dearest pal and it meant a huge deal to him.

In this letter Jimmy spoke of his job, which Thomas knew to be based in London. He was being sent to run an errand which led him all the way to York and he’d soon be there for three days to do a task that only required one and a half, maybe one if he put his mind to it. Which he said in the letter he intended to do, so that he could take his day off when he was done and spend three full days in Ripon, or someplace closer. Thomas took some time to do the math because in his haste to tell him all this, Jimmy wasn’t very clear. But when it sunk in, Thomas had to stop himself from weeping. Jimmy was coming to see him. For three days. It’d be like a little holiday. Thomas re-read the message four times over to make sure he was getting this correctly. He was being asked to set up a meeting point for them as well as a recommendation for a place where Jimmy could spend his nights, since Thomas knew his way around much better than he did. And he asked if it’d be too much trouble for him to sneak out, one way or another, to join him. Thomas thought to himself he’d all but quit his job to spend three days with this man (and wouldn’t that be convenient). Although, grand gestures and love declarations aside, he did have to find a way to take _three_ days off. It was practically unheard of in service, unless it involved a honeymoon, a grave illness, or a dying family member. Thomas had exhausted that last one quite a bit, by now. A grave illness would mean either being locked away in a hospital or tied to the bed under the care of Anna, Baxter, or Mrs Hughes, which didn’t solve anything. And he certainly couldn't get away with a fake honeymoon. Not even he could come up with a scheme right enough to cover him on this occasion. He then landed on the conclusion that the best option for him would be to be truthful, which is something he didn’t excel at, but usually worked very well on the women of Downton, and he was going to need their help if he wanted to get to Mr Carson. Plus, it would make Baxter happy, for once. Not that he’d tell her this unless he came to need it.

It was quite late, so he decided to leave his answer for the morrow, and sleep on it for the night. Quite literally sleep on it, as in, he placed the letter under his pillow, because it made him feel close to Jimmy and he didn’t need to explain himself to anyone, anyway. Sleep didn’t come easy, though. As he calmed down and contemplated the proposal, he was filled with questions. The same questions that kept him up all those nights ago when he still had hope of seeing Jimmy again. He waited for more letters, even sent more of his own, to no avail. What had changed? Why was he writing now? His mind filled with illusions and anticipation of what it would be like to see his friend again. Because it was true, Jimmy had been a friend, and a good one at that. Sparing the soul shattering, unrequited love portion, his friendship was one of the few things Thomas cherished the most, and he was the first person to ever value what a good friend Thomas himself could be. He’d never tried, before, to be a caring, honest, _helpful_ person. But he found his match in Jimmy, someone compatible with his own view of the way of the world, and he knew Jimmy saw it too. To be fair, O’Brien had come close, but she could never count as Thomas’ friend. An ally at best. And although she'd been there to witness Thomas at his lowest, she couldn’t truly understand his sorrow. They shared spite, resentment and enemies, but they could just as easily turn those feelings to one another and in the end, they had. Past the point of forgiveness, Thomas had never missed her or mourned a lost companionship like he had with Jimmy. It filled him with dread the prospect of having to search for someone who would share the same connection he once found with the former footman, knowing all too well he might never find it again. But maybe he didn’t need to, maybe this time Jimmy was coming back into his life for good and maybe there was a future for them. He had a dreamless night, so things were looking up already.

When he woke, before his alarm clock, he wrote a carefully worded letter that didn’t at all reflect his anxious state and set himself the task of going to Anna for help. He didn’t plan it in detail, but his rough idea of what to do involved telling her the circumstances and get her to convince Mrs Hughes to back him up after he tried (and most likely failed) to persuade Mr Carson. So, he tried to wait until breakfast was over and mostly everyone had dissipated, but when he saw that Mr Bates wasn’t going anywhere, he said,

‘‘Anna, may I have a word with you?’’ at which Mr Bates predictably looked up.

‘‘What’s this about?’’ He asked.

‘‘Oh, I’m sorry.’’ Thomas retorted in a way that implied he was feeling everything but sorry. ‘‘Did I say Mr and Mrs Bates again? I meant to say Anna. I very often mispronounce it, how silly of me.’’

A battle of glares was taking place between the two men now. Anna looked done with the both of them already.

‘‘Yes, Thomas, of course you may.’’ Thomas looked back at her.

‘‘In private, that is.’’

She nodded and they both left for the hallway, ignoring a very unsettled Mr Bates. In a corner where they wouldn’t be heard, he explained his situation. 

‘‘Well, I’m very glad for you, Thomas. I know how much you’ve been missing Jimmy.’’ Thomas looked down at that, embarrassed of the smile threatening to take over his face. ‘‘But I really don’t know how I can be of help. Mr Carson won’t much like it, three days is a lot of time off work. What will you do in all that time, anyway?’’ She was smiling with a hint of something akin to suspicion. Thomas found he actually didn’t have an answer for that.

‘‘The only one that could get to Mr Carson is Mrs Hughes.’’

‘‘Oh, I can talk to Mrs Hughes, she won’t be a problem. And with Lady Mary and Lady Edith gone for the week, they could probably manage with Mr Molesley and Andy. I think our only issue is-’’

‘‘Is Mr Carson, I know. He won’t want me to go, even if he can spare me.’’

‘‘Yeah, that’s just it. Maybe you could ask for three half days, instead?’’ She offered, knowing it wasn’t much help.

‘‘I think that’s more than he’d ever give into, still.’’ Thomas sighed, losing hope as he went through his options one more time. They remained in silence, Anna eying him all the while. 

‘‘I must get on now, but worry not, we’ll get Mrs Hughes to do the hard work for us.’’ She offered a complicit smile and went upstairs. 

In the end, they did just that. Thomas needed only to pitch the idea to Mr Carson and, after two days of consideration and with the sympathy of Mrs Hughes and Anna weighing in his favour, he was granted permission. Really, Mr Carson seemed to be the only one who didn’t quite grasp just how much Thomas needed to see Jimmy.

‘‘He is so gloomy now James is gone, and that’s saying something for his character. Besides, I’ll remind you we’ll soon have to get by without him anyway, surely you can let him have this.’’ Mrs Hughes had said to Mr Carson in a tone no one else would’ve gotten away with. Her words had carried certain notes of finality but with enough respect to let the butler believe it was he who made the call. 

‘‘Very well, I suppose not much harm can come from it. And if it does, he shall be long gone to deal with the consequences. But I can only spare him two full days, we are having guests for dinner on Monday and I need all the help I can get. After all, he is still getting paid.’’ He motioned with his hands in a ‘that’s that’ manner and if it was possible for his face to show more disapproval than in his resting state, it did then. So, when Mr Carson communicated his decision to him, Thomas hurriedly sent the letter he’d written days ago. And then it was done, he was going to meet Jimmy. 

Over the course of the next week they exchanged a few short letters planning the logistics and setting a proper time and place for their reunion. Jimmy would rent a room in a pub that came highly recommended by Thomas, and they'd meet just there for a few drinks on the evening of Jimmy's first day in town. Thomas couldn't even bring himself to feel ashamed of how obsessed he was. It was, after all, his only good reason for remaining lively despite the hardships of endless work, hostile co-workers, and chronic dissatisfaction. Although he shouldn't be so ungrateful for the work, as he knew by now it was better to have too much work than none at all. The day Jimmy was bound to arrive, Thomas had half a mind to just pick him up at the train station, instead of waiting until the evening. However, in the name of self-respect, he decided to hold off. 

When the hour was right, Thomas walked into town and, as he drew closer to Jimmy both in space and time, his nerves started manifesting themselves in his stomach. Most days he thought of himself as a cool, calm, collected sort of fellow. Other days he felt as cool, calm, and collected as a woman in labour but overall, he was good at keeping his emotions in check, to remain stoic if only on the outside, and it paid off. He made an art of deceit, mystery and being underestimated. _Mr Bad Guy_ , he thought to himself and chuckled. He came up with that nickname after overhearing a couple of unwise hall boys gossiping about him. He'd long made it his mission to live up to it if there was no other way for him. 

That, however, didn't quite apply to the times when Jimmy was around. His stern look turned to fondness, his brain turned to mush and the spite in his stomach turned to butterflies and he couldn't help it, nor did he want to, most times. Other times he wished he hadn't been so open with Jimmy, so that he could still preserve that aloof facade, a tool that came in handy many a time, to keep people at arm's length. But Jimmy knew (because Thomas had told him) that inside he didn't hold a fraction of the composure that he portrayed. So today he was worried that upon meeting him, Jimmy would be reminded of Thomas’ true feelings toward him. That, overwhelmed by too raw emotions, he'd run away from him again. He'd implied when they parted that was no longer an issue, but worrying was free, so Thomas did so liberally. 

A stray dog found him halfway into town, and he played with him as he walked the rest of the way, which served to distract him from anxious thoughts. 

He was the first to arrive, funnily enough if you considered that Jimmy was just in a room upstairs, but not so odd if you considered Thomas' overexcitement and the fact that the younger man seemed to live in his own time zone. So, Thomas sat in a far corner alone, having parted from his four legged friend, and got himself a pint while he waited. 

Eventually Jimmy showed up, looking like the second coming of Christ, with his golden hair reflecting the last rays of the golden sunset peeking through the stained windows, in the dim lit pub. That was Thomas' version, anyway. To everyone else it was just a dishevelled looking lad in a wrinkled suit who appeared like he'd been traveling all day (which he had), making his way through a musty pub with not enough windows and a few broken light bulbs that needed replacing. Jimmy ordered his own pint at the bar and approached the table. 

‘‘Hello, Mr Barrow.’’ He said around a smirk, he’s eyes twinkling a bit while they shook hands. 

And Thomas was a proper solemn, sometimes old-fashioned Englishman, but just then he damned social norms for not allowing him to jump at Jimmy and hug the life out of him.

‘‘Jimmy.’’ There really was nothing he could do to hold back on the furious amount of love pouring out of his gaze as he locked eyes with him.

The handshake stretched for a moment too long, then they both sat and let out a chuckle that eased the charged air between them, like they were both just shy of _too_ nervous to think of something to say. But eventually Jimmy started conversation by diving headfirst into his adventures after leaving Downton, at least the ones he hadn‘t managed to write down in his letters. Thomas reciprocated by telling him all the relevant stories after Jimmy left him, pointedly leaving out the gut wrenching solitude that tinted his days and his near death experience caused by choosing the wrong path. They asked one another questions and each of them answered enthusiastically, filling in the gaps of too much time apart. Jimmy had found work in a shop in London, it sold music instruments and he got along with the owner well enough. Thomas described the Carsons’ wedding and a few catastrophes that went down in the house. When they finished their firsts, they ordered more pints and Thomas lit a cigarette offering one to Jimmy who politely refused, both of them far more relaxed after easing back into their familiarity. While they waited for their drinks, Jimmy broke the silence, sitting across from Thomas but sideways on his chair, so his back was against the wall and his right arm was resting on the table.

‘‘D’you know, sometimes, when I have a predicament at work…’’ He paused and rolled his eyes. ‘‘Actually, that’s a lie. _Very_ often, when I’m not sure how to work something out, I ask meself: What would Mr Barrow do?’’ He finished with a smile, looking his way. 

‘‘Do you really?’’ Thomas said, eyebrows high in amused surprise.

‘‘Yeah.’’ He saw an opportunity and he jumped at it. ‘‘And then I take the complete opposite course of action.’’

Thomas was laughing before he even finished the sentence and Jimmy joined him. His humour seemed awfully predictable to his friend, even after so much time apart. 

‘‘Sod off.’’ His eyes were glistening, and his smile didn’t subdue.

‘‘No, I‘m serious. Like when I had to justify my leaving Downton. I was so stupid I hadn’t even thought about what I should say. It hadn’t occurred to me until then. So, I made up an excuse on the spot.’’ He was looking proud while Thomas listened intently. ‘‘I said something like ‘Oh, I dunno, I felt I had outgrown my post. I’m ready, now, to take more responsibility than they were able to give.’ They seem impressed by that.’’ He gestured theatrically with his hands while he quoted himself.

‘‘You had to think of me to come up with that?’’

‘‘Well, isn’t that something you would say?’’

‘‘It is, yes. But I thought you meant predicaments regarding your duties at work.’’

‘‘You taught me more than just footman duties, Mr Barrow. I don’t think I would’ve ever gone to London in the first place if it weren’t for you, no money, no plan. It was the first brave thing I’ve ever done.’’

‘‘I’d say going to Lady Anstruther’s room that night was brave enough.’’

‘‘It weren’t brave, it was plain idiotic. Wish I could go back and stop myself.’’ Jimmy’s face was pinched.

‘‘Well I did try, but you were rather determined.’’

‘‘Oh, I don’t blame you for it. Unless it was you who started the fire.’’ He was teasing now.

‘‘Is that what you think?’’ He challenged. ‘‘That I would set an Abbey on fire, for you?’’

‘‘Maybe.’’ Jimmy smirked. ‘‘Out of jealousy.’’

‘‘Out of jealousy?!’’ Thomas gaped. ‘‘The cheek of ya. I draw the line at taking beatings meant for someone else, Jimmy. I’m not a complete halfwit.’’

‘‘Oh, come on, now, Mr Barrow. You know how I hate when you bring that up.’’ Jimmy complained.

‘‘So you should, with the way you ran off. Just left me there to take the blow for you.’’ He lamented.

‘‘No, stop, you said no harm done. I was terribly drunk! And I would’ve never asked you to do that, you were the one following me around like a lap dog.’’ Jimmy was wincing, protesting even though he knew he was being mocked. They went through this countless times, no one was really offended anymore.

‘‘Just lying there, bleeding out. Bruises all over me, hardly breathing,’’ Thomas went on. ‘‘thinking to myself: This is for you, Jimmy Kent.’’ His lips were quirking up, not quite holding down his smile and he was pointing at Jimmy emphatically. Jimmy swatted his finger away.

‘‘Thomas, cut it out!’’ His voice cracked on that last word, which sent Thomas laughing furiously. “Oh, God.” Jimmy was laughing too. ‘‘Stop, that’s so embarrassing.’’ He couldn’t stop giggling.

‘‘I don’t even need to ridicule you, you do the job for me.’’

‘‘Yeah, you still try, though.’’ 

The barmaid came with their drinks just then, and they both paused to take a sip.

‘‘Well, for what it's worth, it’s my ass on the line now. I don't know what comes next for me.’’ Thomas went on. Not because he particularly enjoyed the topic of conversation, but because he liked talking with Jimmy, missed it so much. And it seemed right to talk about these sorts of things with a friend, after so long.

‘‘What d'ya mean?’’

‘‘Well, I haven't told you this but I‘m to be leaving Downton, Jimmy.’’ Thomas said with a sour smile.

‘‘What? You're joking.’’ Jimmy seemed honestly surprised by this, and a bit preoccupied, perhaps more than Thomas expected.

‘‘I wish I were. Lord Grantham deems it necessary to cut down staff and instead of the last hired footman, the only logical answer was me: The troubled under-butler. That's fifteen years of loyalty and service thrown all away. Mr Carson is thrilled, of course.’’ Thomas said, as the smile ran away from his face he held a resentful look.

‘‘I’d imagined that old bastard would be long retired by now. It should be you who runs that house, no one better fitted for a butler.’’ Jimmy said, both in sympathy and as a genuine compliment. 

‘‘You think too highly of me.’’ Thomas' face looked the same as it did the day Jimmy spoke to him after the fair, like he didn’t want the pity but he enjoyed the attention. It did that a lot around Jimmy. 

‘‘So everyone should.’’ Jimmy stated with a nod, but he had also gone a bit shy. ‘‘Where will you go, then?’’

‘‘As a matter of fact I have a proposal to work as a butler in a different house.’’ Jimmy was so focused on him as he spoke. Eyes hazy from the beer, looking pointedly at him, only at him. Thomas had to reach into his pocket and pull out another cigarette. ‘‘It seems to be so quiet there, no one to talk to, not even, I dunno,’’ He paused to light it and held it in his mouth while he continued. ‘‘the annoying sort you go all day wanting off your back. I think I would take Mr Molesley with me if it meant I could hear something other than that old man's heavy breathing.’’ He chuckled and let out a cloud of smoke.

‘‘Now that's something I never thought I‘d hear.’’

‘‘It's true. It's only this old couple who lives there. A cook and a kitchen maid is all the staff there is, I know I‘ll 'ave to take it but it just feels so lonely.’’ He lowered his voice quickly as his thoughts slipped out of his mouth. He hadn‘t meant to be quite so honest.

‘‘I do know what you mean, though. I missed our talks too when I left.’’

‘‘You did?’’ Thomas had this hopeful look in his face, so obvious, and his eyes were radiating fondness.

‘‘I did. I never found your match in cards. I missed our interactions.’’ Jimmy was looking down at the table, his fingers playing with the condensation in his half-empty glass. But he looked up, then, with a shy smirk. ‘‘Particularly the ones where I was awake.’’ 

Thomas' mouth fell open and all his previous emotions turned to faux indignation. 

‘‘Right, I'm leaving.’’ He made a move to push back his chair and walk out. 

‘‘No,’’ Jimmy was giggling like an idiot again. ‘‘wait, I’m joking. Stay.’’ 

And Thomas did, because what else would he do?

‘‘Is it far from Downton?’’ Jimmy asked when he sat back.

‘‘Not at all, no. I don’t think I could manage a complete change of scenery right now.’’

‘‘Why is that?’’ Jimmy asked, visibly more relaxed.

‘‘I think I’m in desperate need for some sense of stability at the moment.’’ He said, taking a drag to camouflage the complete transparency reflecting on his face.

‘‘Say, Mr Barrow…’’ Jimmy waited until Thomas raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement. ’’Did you miss me?’’

Thomas had to cough a little to hide the _of-fucking-course_ scoff that threatened to escape his mouth, but he managed not to spit out his beer. 

‘‘I did, yes.’’ He admitted shyly, even though they both knew the answer, and then he took a drag of the cigarette still in his hand. Jimmy mirrored his smile, though, so it wasn‘t too awkward. 

Thomas didn't mention that, in missing him, he also forgot every good reason for waking up and going on every day. Crying in front of the mirror wondering if there'd ever be any good times ahead had become something of a nighttime routine for him. ‘‘I felt much better when we wrote to each other, though.’’ 

He regretted the words as soon as he spoke, it felt so grave when he said it aloud. It was, but he hadn't intended to question Jimmy about his sudden lack of response. Thomas always had a flare for the dramatic, half his vocabulary was dry humour and witty comebacks. But not with Jimmy, every word he spoke around him was a careful one. 

Jimmy was a bit struck by his remark, like he realised too late his own question would inevitably lead to it. Some part of him had hoped he wouldn‘t have to explain why he suddenly couldn't write anymore. His eyes were looking down when he spoke and he was holding his glass on the table with both hands. 

‘‘In truth, Mr Barrow-’’

‘‘It’s alright, Jimmy. It were only a comment.’’

Jimmy’s eyes snapped up and he frowned. The air had shifted a little from their previous light hearted conversation into something more serious. Thomas was unsubtly trying to save him from having to elaborate while simultaneously avoiding further heartbreak for himself.

‘‘ _In truth_ , Mr Barrow,’’ Jimmy insisted and Thomas’ eyes widened a little. ‘‘I stopped writing to you because your letters were only remindin’ me of my days at Downton… and our friendship and all. And, I think-’’ He shook his head and his voice softened. ‘‘I just missed it too much.’’ He looked up at Thomas, whose face revealed no specific emotion. Jimmy continued to speak slowly, and a bit short of breath. ‘‘I figured, if those days were in the past, and I were to never see you again, then best not to be friends at all.’’ He let out a bitter chuckle. ‘‘It sounds a bit fatalistic, I know, but I just don’t deal well with loss.’’ Thomas let the silence stretch before responding.

‘‘And here I was think’ you finally had enough of me.’’ He stubbed his cigarette, eyes on the ashtray, and offered another one of his bitter smiles like he so often did. An automatic expression he pulled while he processed Jimmy’s words.

‘‘I wouldn’t.’’ Jimmy’s eyes were open big and his face was serious, like a child doing his best to show he was being truthful. 

‘‘I’m glad.’’ Was all Thomas could muster in response. His heart was beating out of his chest, his cheeks were tinted and if he were alone, he’d probably be in tears. There were more questions to be asked, things that didn’t quite make sense to Thomas, still. But he couldn’t be bothered to ask them now. It was just a bit surreal to think that Jimmy had not only _not_ forgotten all about him, like he had initially believed, but he had also been clearly affected by his departure from the abbey, from Thomas. It was a relief to know that the feeling that their relationship was special was not a product of his own imagination, that Jimmy had felt it too. He didn’t dare picture Jimmy sad, alone, and far away in the London stench, though, because his cold little heart couldn’t handle that visual. 

‘‘You would be, you old sap.’’ Jimmy was joking, but there was a question in his eyes when they met Thomas’, unsure whether or not he was allowed to mock. 

‘‘I’m no sap, mind you. And only I am allowed to make fun of my old age, so you’d be wise not to bring it up again.’’ He pointed a finger and gave his best warning glare, but it didn’t have the same effect when his eyes were saying _I would kill a king to keep you looking at me like that_ , did it?

‘‘Oooh, you’ve scared me right off.’’ Jimmy took a sip from his now lukewarm beer, but he was smiling so wide a bit dripped down the corner of his mouth. Thomas’ hand twitched on the table as Jimmy put his glass down and picked up a napkin to dry himself. ‘‘Right, I was thinking we could go to the pictures tomorrow, how about it?’’

‘‘That sounds nice, I haven’t been in a while.’’

‘‘Me either, didn’t have anyone to go with and it felt stupid to go alone.’’

‘‘You’re stupid for thinking it’s stupid going to the pictures alone.’’

‘‘Am not.’’ He said frowning comically. 

‘‘I do it all the time.’’

‘‘Yeah but you still work with so many people and I don’t anymore. It gets lonely living on me own, doing everything on me ownsome.’’ 

‘‘Didn’t you mention another fellow who works in the shop?’’

‘‘Yeah, but he’s a right knobhead. Talks about everything like he’s got a clue. He doesn’t know the first thing, completely unbearable.’’ 

‘‘You’re quite the social butterfly, arent’ya?’’ Jimmy just stuck his tongue out at him. ‘‘Alright, what should we watch?’’

‘‘I dunno, what do you fancy? A bit of Ruddy Valentino, surely.’’ Jimmy smiled and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

‘‘You are terribly unfunny.’’ Thomas fixed him with a glare but his heartbeat picked up. At this rate this conversation would send him into cardiac arrest. Jimmy was the first person to accept his nature so openly and he was unused to it. Sure, it took a long and bumpy road to get there, but he managed at last and he almost made Thomas feel safe, understood. He appreciated it to no end.

‘‘I’m not wrong, though, am I?’’

‘‘He’s a good actor.’’ Thomas caved in a defensive tone. 

‘‘What, he acts?’’ They both laughed and Jimmy had the intruding thought that their laughs sounded good together. 

‘‘Should we go at midday or night time?’’ Thomas asked.

‘‘It’s supposed to rain tomorrow, I gather, so maybe let’s go at noon, no?’’

‘‘We could go back to Downton afterwards, if you want to say hello. You could have supper there, Mrs Patmore won’t mind and I’ll still have my day off.’’

‘‘Well, I won’t turn down a free meal. But I imagine it wouldn’t harm to see that lot again, as well.’’ 

A loud clatter drew their attention to a corner of the pub where a barmaid had dropped a tray full of silverware. Then, Jimmy caught sight of the pool table and darts stationed in the back.

‘‘Oh, let’s go play something, Mr Barrow, c’mon.’’ He stood without pausing to let Thomas answer, so he just followed.

They played for the next forty minutes and if Thomas was a smart man he would’ve said his goodbyes half an hour earlier. Alas, he was just an idiot in love- no, wait. A good friend who missed his other friend terribly, and so he chose to stay for now and deal with the dark road and the dangers of the night later on. Lucky for him though, Jimmy had other plans in mind.

‘‘Oh my God, Mr Barrow! I almost forgot!’’ Jimmy turned to Thomas and lowered the arm that was holding the darts, aiming at the bullseye.

‘‘What? What is it?’’ Thomas asked, startled by the urgency in Jimmy’s voice.

‘‘I brought this broken clock! It’s an old thing that Mr Ronan, the shop owner that is, has hanging on the wall.’’ Jimmy was speaking fast and pulling all sorts of faces. ‘‘I think it’s a family heirloom or something, but it keeps breaking every month. I swear, he spends more on the repair than on me wages. But I said I’d bring it to you, maybe you could fix it. He’d pay you, of course, but I know how much you like clocks, don’t you?’’

‘‘I do, yes.’’ Thomas stood, puzzled and a little amused at Jimmy’s passionate rant. 

‘‘Right, so I thought it would make for a nice gift. I mean, you can’t keep it. The clock’s not the gift. But I’m gifting you the experience of fixing a clock.’’ He finished with a wide grin and proud eyes. 

‘‘That’s…’’ Thomas was struggling to find a response. He wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of such considerations. He wasn’t used to being on the giving end either, but oh well. ‘‘That’s really thoughtful, Jimmy. Thank you.’’

‘‘Oh, it’s nothing. C’mon up, I’ll show you, I have it with my stuff.’’

Jimmy took him up to his room and, upon entering, walked straight to his case where he kept his stuff, while Thomas was left to take in the space. It was just a bed, slightly wider than their cots at Downton but not by much, in the corner nearer the door and a desk opposite, in between two narrow but tall windows. There were no curtains (it seems the place had some budget issues since Thomas last visited) so moonlight was seeping through. A wardrobe was to the left but it didn’t look like it was being used. After Jimmy found the clock, he turned on a yellow lamp on the desk and motioned for Thomas to come closer.

‘‘Look, here it is.’’ He gave it to him together with a bag of tools and made his way to the bedside table, opening the drawer. 

Meanwhile Thomas, a secret bohemian at heart, ignored the desk and chair completely and sat on the floor, bringing the lamp with him, and started to have a look around. Jimmy turned and scoffed humorously when he saw him on the ground, but made his way over with a bottle of rum. Thomas looked up from where he was unscrewing a nut, registered the bottle and lifted one judging eyebrow. 

‘‘Didn’t we just come up from a bar?’’

‘‘Yes, but we are up here now, aren’t we? Don’t be dull.’’ He took a swig straight from the bottle and passed it to Thomas. 

‘‘I really shouldn’t. I still have to walk back to the abbey and anyway, I can’t work properly when I’m on the stuff.’’

‘‘Oh, give it a rest. If it’s too dark and you’re still too drunk you can stay here till the morning.’’ Thomas just stared and let Jimmy process his own words, waiting for him to change his mind. ‘‘Go on, Mr Barrow, I bought this just for us.’’

‘‘It’s half empty already.’’

‘‘I was bored on the train. And then some while I waited to meet you.’’ 

Thomas finally took the bottle and drank some like he’d been wanting to do since Jimmy invited him to spend the night. 

They drank and talked and dismantled the clock (which was getting harder and harder to put back together as they made their way through the bottle), and somewhere along the last few gulps of rum it occurred to Thomas to wonder how they would sleep, seeing as there was only one bed. But then Jimmy started playing with the very ancient and very delicate minute hand and the questions slipped his mind as he scolded him.

There was a bizarre state of affairs at one moment, far later on where the alcohol was long gone and it was nearing three a.m., by which point none of them had made any suggestions that they were ready to go to sleep. Jimmy was playing around with yet another object, a tool this time (he made everything into a toy, it seemed), and when Thomas snatched it away to put it to use, Jimmy, petulant and stubborn and very much drunk, launched himself onto him to get it back. He landed most of his body on Thomas, sending them both completely on the floor, and unintentionally setting them up for an impromptu playful but quite intense wrestling match. 

Lying on the ground, panting and still dizzy from the drink, Thomas wondered how the night got to this. He hadn’t expected much from his reunion with Jimmy, he was just happy to see him again. There was definitely some curiosity around the fact that Jimmy had completely stopped writing for so long only to reach out again wanting to spend three days with him, but Thomas wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Yet here he was now, spending the night in Jimmy’s room and pushing him off his chest, where said man deemed it a good place to rest his upper body. Then he saw his open mouth and a pool of saliva in his shirt.

‘‘Oh my God, Jimmy, you’re drooling on me! Get. _Off_.’’ He had to push Jimmy’s head away with his hand when he didn’t respond. ‘‘How are you even asleep? It’s been two seconds.’’

‘‘What? I’m not drooling.’’ Jimmy mumbled, sitting up and wiping his face with the back of his hand.

‘‘Yes, y’are, look, there’s a wet spot on my shirt.’’

Jimmy’s hair was tousled and his cheeks flushed and when he looked up Thomas’ stomach flipped.

‘‘Sorry. Let’s play some cards.’’

‘‘What?’’

‘‘Let’s play something. I have cards.’’ He started fumbling around, looking for his briefcase. 

‘‘Jimmy, if you want to go to sleep, you can. I’ll just finish this.’’ He motioned to the clock.

‘‘No, I don’t want to sleep, I want to play some cards.’’ He picked up the deck and started shuffling.

So they did, disarranged clock long forgotten, until the sunrise started filtering through the curtainless windows and they couldn’t keep their eyes open anymore. They took a spontaneous break halfway through to passionately discuss the roots of socialism and the future of the monarchy and they both discovered the other one was far more political than they originally thought. But then they kept playing in silence, each round going a bit slower until by this point they were simply holding the cards. 

‘‘Should we sleep, then?’’ Jimmy asked, defeated. 

‘‘Yes, please.’’ Thomas yawned. ‘‘Fetch me a blanket and I’ll lie on the floor.’’

‘‘Are you sure?’’ He asked while standing up to get the blanket. 

Thomas didn’t respond but he took it and placed it on the floor next to the bed, then he took his discarded jacket and folded it to use as a makeshift pillow. Jimmy just stood and watched him.

‘‘Wait, Mr Barrow, it’s wrong. You should take the bed.’’ It was a nice sentiment but he finished it with a belch. 

‘‘That's cute.’’

‘‘Sorry. But I mean it, take the bed, please. I offered you to stay.’’

‘‘It really is no problem, you don’t need to do that.’’

‘‘Yes, I do, c’mon. Plus your back is too old for that.’’

Thomas made an indignant noise but didn’t protest further, it wasn’t a lie after all. 

They both striped into their undershirts but kept their trousers on, for propriety. Jimmy turned off the light and accidentally kicked his briefcase on his way back to his blanket. Cursing under his breath he hopped on one foot the rest of the way while Thomas laughed quietly at him. Lying down, Jimmy rested his cheek in Thomas’ jacket and it smelled so much like him that he wrapped both arms around it and above his head and was asleep within minutes. Thomas followed right after, the ache in his bones from a full work week catching up to him and Jimmy’s steady breathing serving as a peaceful lullaby.

The next morning when they awoke they decided to get some food in before their hangovers got the best of them. While getting dressed, Thomas went to pick up his jacket and it dawned on him that Jimmy had slept in it. Jimmy witnessed him realise that and had the decency to look embarrassed but neither of them commented on it. Jimmy put on a different suit but Thomas had to borrow some cologne because his clothes still smelled like beer and too much cigarette smoke. 

After a slow and quiet breakfast, they both wandered into town aimlessly, trying to ease their way into the day. As fate would have it, it didn’t look like it would rain at all, the sky was a gorgeous blue and the sun was peeking behind a single cloud. But, a plan is a plan, so they walked around and talked idly before properly making their way to the picture house, like they’d previously decided. 

They did end up watching something with Ruddy Valentino, and every time he appeared on screen Jimmy would turn to look at Thomas, as if to make sure he was also seeing him. Thomas didn’t know how to take it at first so he just ignored him but after the fourth time he started doing the same, to amuse him. So now whenever the actor got a close up (quite often, it turns out) they both looked straight at each other in the darkness of the theatre. It sent them into fits of quiet giggles every time. 

Walking out of the theatre Jimmy took off his jacket to carry it in his hand and then rolled up his sleeves. Thomas quickly looked away from his exposed arms when he heard him speak.

‘‘It always puts me out of sorts to walk out of here and see daylight.’’

‘‘Me too.’’ Thomas answered noncommittally. 

‘‘So, should we walk back to the abbey?’’

‘‘Yeah, let‘s.’’

The journey was long but the day was beautiful, crisp autumn air with the last hints of summer sky, warm sunshine and blooming trees. When they were getting close to Downton they crossed paths with a man on a bicycle, going the opposite direction. 

“Oh, that reminds me,” Thomas said softly. “There’s a new bike shop in town, it opened last week. This sweet old lady owns it. We could rent some, ride along the stream or something, make a day of it, if you’d like.’’ He offered with a small smile. 

‘‘Oooh, that sounds nice.’’ Jimmy said enthusiastically.

‘‘She told me the first ride’s free for pretty boys.’’

‘‘So that’s mine covered, what should we do about yours?”

Thomas slapped the back of his head with a heavy hand and pulled out a cigarette. Jimmy laughed and watched him light it. They continued to the abbey and when only the last half of the cigarette remained, Jimmy stole it and finished it himself.

Once in the backyard, Jimmy stopped to take a deep breath and Thomas waited for him before opening the door and walking in. Jimmy had fond memories at Downton, but he also had some, albeit not many, fond memories of the war. That didn’t mean he wanted to relive them. It probably wasn’t a fair comparison, but Downton didn’t mean to Jimmy what it meant to Thomas. Back when they were still keeping contact, the under butler once spoke of belonging, of putting down roots, whereas Jimmy felt he hadn’t found his place in the world yet. This little trip of his might have something to do with finding it.

But he was actually looking forward to seeing Daisy again, even if he wouldn’t admit it. And all the ladies had been respectfully nice to him, neverminded if he never returned that kindness. So the problem wasn’t running into Anna, Mrs Hughes or Mrs Patmore. He just really didn’t want to face Carson. 

‘‘He’s not your boss anymore. You don’t have to fear him.’’ Thomas whispered as they made their way into the hall. He was poking fun at him but the reassurance still helped.

‘‘Am I that obvious?’’

‘‘Thomas, you’re back. How was Jimmy?’’ Came Daisy’s voice through the servants’ hall. 

‘‘Hello, Daisy.’’ Jimmy offered a smile emerging from the shadows and behind Thomas’ back where he had most definitely _not_ been hiding.

‘‘Goodness! It’s you.’’ She was putting down plates for their tea, and she set the remaining pile down on the tables with a massive grin on her face only to run into the kitchen. ‘‘Mrs Patmore, look who’s here!’’ 

‘‘It’s nice to see you too.’’ Jimmy whispered sarcastically to Thomas and received a quiet chuckle in response. 

They were likely finishing dinner upstairs because none of the footmen were anywhere to be found.

‘‘What’s all this noise?’’ Mrs Hughes appeared on the hallway across from them with a frown, her arms extended out as if reading herself to catch any fainting maids or flying silverware. ‘‘Oh, my. James, what a wonderful surprise.’’ Her face turned soft as she took them both in and her eyes lingered on Thomas for a bit, looking pleased. 

‘‘Hello, Mrs Hughes. It’s nice to be back.’’ He was only half lying.

‘‘Jimmy! What are you doing ‘ere?’’ Mrs Patmore emerged from the kitchen, clutching a bowl in one arm and continuing to whisk with the other even as she spoke. 

‘‘We met up yest- This morning, and he said he wanted to come visit.’’ Thomas explained with a smile, also not being completely truthful. He didn’t think Jimmy would appreciate having to explain them sharing a room. Jimmy gave him a funny look because it was Thomas who offered to come to Downton, not him. But he figured the others needn’t know such details. 

‘‘We were wondering why you didn’t come back last night. Were you staying with ‘im?’’ Daisy asked, earning two stares from Mrs Hughes and Mrs Patmore while Thomas and Jimmy just held their breaths.

‘‘Mrs Patmore, is everything ready for dess- Oh. Mr Barrow, you are back.’’ Carson’s voice echoed in the hall as he approached them. ‘‘And you’ve brought James. How delightful.’’ Jimmy just glared subtly at him and didn’t grace him with a response.

‘‘Well, go on then, tell us what you’ve been up to.’’ Daisy sat on the table and looked at Jimmy expectantly, so he eventually sat down across from her. He shot Thomas a scared look as both him and Mrs Hughes also took their seats and waited for him to start speaking. Mrs Patmore and Mr Carson moved to the kitchen to discuss dessert. 

Jimmy told them some unrevealing stories about his work in London while Thomas lit a cigarette beside him, and soon enough Anna and Mr Bates showed up. Mrs Baxter was busy mending a dress when they arrived, according to Anna, but she joined in not long after. Anna kept throwing Thomas’ some complicit smiles but he didn’t have it in himself to return them. He smoked and observed Jimmy talk and he couldn’t help but feel proud. Proud of Jimmy but also proud of himself. He’d proved them all wrong; he managed to keep a friend, Jimmy was in Downton as _his friend_. He allowed himself to indulge a little and look at Jimmy properly, carelessly. With his attention elsewhere, Thomas didn’t worry about getting caught staring. Because there was something quite different about Jimmy, after all this time. There was the familiarity they were able to slip back into and the friendship that felt all the more solid after months of not seeing each other. Although he had never been so eager to spend time with Thomas, like he seemed to be now. Nor was he so _tactile_. Thomas’ head went back to Jimmy snatching away a cigarette, or correcting Thomas’ hand with his own when playing darts (not unlike Thomas had done all that time ago when teaching him to wind clocks) and that _bloody_ wrestling match. It was unthinkable for either of them to try such a thing back when they were both working together. And there was also a mystery to it all, not knowing exactly what Jimmy’s life was like, all the things he’d been up to every day and the fact that he was still calling him Mr Barrow even though he really didn’t need to. Thomas had a feeling that Jimmy wasn’t letting on everything, from the reason he stopped writing to the reason he came back. He pointedly forced that feeling away, promising to himself not to question Jimmy, to take whatever he could and give as much as Jimmy would allow and be grateful for every second of it.

Mrs Patmore walked back out of the kitchen, interrupting Jimmy’s story, and Thomas’ thoughts. 

‘‘You will also be staying for tea, I take it?’’ She was faking annoyance, but you could see she was happy to have him. 

‘‘I will, Mrs Patmore, if that’s alright.’’ 

Jimmy was not so secretly a vain person, but all that focus on him had made him a bit shy. He really just wanted to be left alone so he and Thomas could go upstairs. They hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before and the walk back from town had positively drained him. He nudged Thomas’ foot with his own under the table. 

‘‘Right, I’m going upstairs to change.’’ Thomas stood and stubbed his cigarette on the ashtray, feigning nonchalance. ‘‘Jimmy, you wanted to borrow some thread to fix that seam on your shoulder?’’ He pointed vaguely to Jimmy’s jacket. Jimmy was on his feet before Thomas had finished speaking.

‘‘Right you are, Mr Barrow, yes. I nearly forgot. Excuse me, everyone.’’ He gave them a curt nod and a tight smile before walking out, Thomas following behind with a smug smile at the confused glances being exchanged among the little crowd that had formed. 

Once in the room, Jimmy walked straight over to the bed and plopped down on it, letting out a loud sigh.

‘‘Felt like a bloody animal in a circus or something. Don’t know why they care so much.’’ Thomas started taking off his jacket as he had, in actuality, gone upstairs to change out of his dirty clothes.

‘‘Listen, I’m going to take a bath, I still reek of alcohol. But feel free to nap here for a while.’’

‘‘Fine, but don’t take long, I get easily bored.’’ Jimmy was looking up at the ceiling with his arms stretched out, star-like. 

‘‘How can you get bored if you are sleeping?’’ Thomas asked while roaming around for his toiletries.

‘‘Mmm.’’ Jimmy grunted in response.

 _A child_ , Thomas thought walking out of the room, _I’m in love with a literal child._

It appears they didn’t share the same notion about just how long it takes to have a bath, because not eight minutes later, there was a knock on the bathroom door.

‘‘Mr Barrow, can I come in?’’ Jimmy whisper shouted, his voice muffled by the closed door.

‘‘I’m still here, Jimmy, can’t you wait five more minutes?’’ Thomas answered impatiently, rinsing off the last of the soap on his armpits. 

For some reason that escaped Thomas, Jimmy took this as an invitation to walk in. He closed the door behind him while he talked casually. 

‘‘I think they are done entertaining because I heard Mr Molesley come up to his room. I don’t want him to see me and start conversation, couldn’t bare it right now.’’ He sat on the toilet next to the tub and rested his arms on his knees, looking at Thomas. Naked Thomas. Naked, flustered and confused Thomas.

‘‘You don’t mind, do you?’’ He added, far too late. 

‘‘ _Yes_ , actually, I _do_ mind. I don’t know about you but I prefer to take baths on my own. You know, have some privacy, time for myself.’’ Jimmy’s eyebrows were raised in surprise, like that though hadn’t occurred to him. Then he processed Thomas’ words and he smiled, squinting his eyes. 

‘‘Do you, now?’’ He asked suggestively. 

Jimmy was smirking in exaggerated fashion as he leaned back into the toilet seat.

‘‘Steady on, I don’t mean for _that_.’’ Thomas rushed. 

‘‘You know, it’s perfectly fine, Mr Barrow-’’ 

‘‘I know it is.’’

‘‘- every man does it. I don’t see why a handsome, healthy chap such as you should feel ashamed-’’ 

‘‘You think me handsome?’’

‘‘What?’’ Jimmy looked genuinely confused.

‘‘You said _a handsome, healthy chap such as yourself._ ’’ It was Thomas’ turn to smirk.

‘‘No, I didn’t.’’

‘‘Do you think I’m handsome, Jimmy?’’ He insisted, throwing all shame out the window.

‘‘I didn’t say that, I said healthy.’’

The grin on Thomas’ face was as wide as Jimmy’s cheeks were flushed. 

‘‘Right, no, of course, silly me. Turn around, please, I want to get out now.’’ 

Jimmy turned sideways and Thomas got out of the tub. After he dried himself, he changed into some clean clothes and went to shave.

‘‘Do you think Mr Carson would let me have one of the spare rooms up here for the night?’’ Jimmy asked, watching closely as the other man painted his face with shaving cream. 

‘‘You want to sleep here? What about the room you’re paying for?’’ 

‘‘Oh, Mr Ronan’s taken care of that, it’s not a problem. I think I’m too tired to walk back and I usually get sleepier after eating.’’

‘‘Well, if you’re going to ask him, I suggest you do so at dinner. Having Mrs Hughes there might help your case. Maybe Anna, too.’’ Thomas proposed, rinsing his razor, and then bringing it back up to his left cheek. 

‘‘You’re a clever one, Mr Barrow.’’ Jimmy said distractedly as he kept his eyes on Thomas’ face. Thomas’ hands trembled and he nicked his skin slightly.

 _‘‘Shite_.’’ 

‘‘Here.’’ Jimmy was quick to grab some tissue paper and offer it to him. Thomas took it and folded it into a small square before placing it over the cut. 

He finished shaving quietly and Jimmy followed him to his room when he was done. Once inside, he placed his items on his desk and sat on the bed, stretching his legs and resting his back to the wall. Jimmy dragged the only chair closer to the bed and also propped his feet up on the mattress. In comfortable silence, Thomas grabbed his sewing kit and started to work on a ripped seam in one of his uniform trousers, a task he’d been postponing for a month. Jimmy just picked up a day-old newspaper and entertained himself with the personal columns.

‘‘I should finish fixing that clock.’’ Thomas mumbled, his eyes fixed on the needle his careful fingers were holding.

‘‘What was that?’’ Jimmy looked up from the paper.

‘‘The clock, we left it without finishing the job.’’

‘‘Oh, right. I’d completely forgotten about that.’’ He chuckled, earning a fond smile from Thomas. ‘‘Alright, well, we’ll get it tomorrow when we go visit that bicycle shop.’’

There was a knock then, and Andy’s voice travelled through the closed door.

‘‘Mr Barrow? You can come down to dinner now.’’

‘‘Thank you, Andy. We’ll be right down.’’ Thomas answered loud enough so he could be heard.

‘‘Is that my replacement, then?’’ Jimmy asked self-righteously, putting the chair back into place.

‘‘That’s Andrew, yes. Be _nice_ , he’s a good lad.’’ He warned when he took in Jimmy’s face.

‘‘I’m always nice.’’ Jimmy said walking out of the room.

Dinner went nicely, Jimmy made sure to savour every bite of his meal, knowing he wouldn’t be eating this well for a long time and he told Mrs Patmore so. He studied Andy curiously for a while, until he noticed and started returning the glares. Thomas witnessed the whole exchange but kept to himself, making a note to ask Jimmy about it later. 

Jimmy waited for a lull in conversation to ask Mr Carson if they could spare a room where he could spend the night.

‘‘Must you?’’ Carson asked mardily without looking up from his soup. 

‘‘Oh, give him a break Mr Carson. Surely you won’t make him walk all the way back at this hour?’’ Mrs Hughes predictably reprimanded. 

Mr Carson looked up then, surprised, as he hadn’t known Mrs Hughes to be so fond of the former footman. 

‘‘ _If_ James wished to dine here, he should have known it’d be this late before he could go home.’’ Carson pointed, throwing Thomas a dirty look, for good measure.

‘‘I believe Mrs Hughes is right, Mr Carson.’’ Anna pressed, respectfully. ‘‘I was just outside and the night has gone terribly windy, I think the temperature has dropped below the tens. He’ll catch his death if goes out now, without a coat.’’ 

Mr Bates snapped his head around to look at her, knowing full well the night was particularly mild, as he had just been out with her discussing it. But he kept quiet while he caught Thomas shooting his wife a grateful nod.

‘‘Fine, I don’t wish to discuss this any further. You may stay, but only for tonight. Downton is a prestigious estate, _not_ a cheap Bed and Breakfast for stray travellers and former employers.’’ Jimmy was about to say his thank you’s but Mr Carson held his palm up. ‘‘And I’d prefer it if His Lordship didn’t find out.’’ 

Nothing more was said on the matter but Jimmy locked eyes with Thomas and smiled, receiving a wink in return. He felt excitement bubble in his stomach and for a full second he forgot this wasn’t his workplace anymore. 

After dinner they both went up to Thomas’ room and played some cards. Jimmy nagged incessantly for a bottle of _something_ he knew Thomas had somewhere hidden.

‘‘Please, Mr Barrow, don’t be such a spoilt sport. You always used to nick at least one bottle every few months and you think no one noticed but I _did_. So where is it?’’

‘‘I won’t grace such accusations with a response. But why do you want to drink so badly? I’m not even fully recovered from last night. Are you an alcoholic?’’

‘‘Oh, don’t be daft, it’s just some liquid courage.’’

‘‘What d’ya need courage for?’’

‘‘Never mind that, bring it out, come on, Mr Barrow.’’ He whined.

‘‘Alright, seriously.’’ Thomas straightened on his chair and put his cards down with a solemn look. “Jimmy, is this what this is all about? Do you have a problem?’’

‘‘What?’’ Jimmy looked at him in disbelief with an edge of irritation. 

‘‘Have you come all this way to tell me you have issues with the drink?’’ Thomas spoke calmly, keeping eye contact. 

‘‘Oh, for the love of God.’’ Jimmy whispered at the ceiling, lolling his head back. Thomas didn’t say anything, so he returned his eyes to him, sighed loudly, and spoke. ‘‘No, I don’t have a problem with alcohol, I just like drinking with you.’’ And when he saw Thomas’ face relax, he found a weak spot. “And I thought you’d like to have a drink with me, but if I’m wrong, I’ll just go to my room and call it a night.’’

‘‘No, no- you can stay, we’ll have that drink.’’ Thomas rolled his eyes and walked over to his dresser. 

It was a selfish move on Jimmy’s part. But Thomas’ didn’t have to know it was deliberate and, honestly, Jimmy took some pleasure in seeing the effect he had on him. Even after everything, Thomas still loved him. How exciting. 

Thomas pulled out the bottle and a single glass.

‘‘You’re not drinking?’’ Jimmy asked.

‘‘I am if you are, but this is the only glass I have.’’

‘‘What is it, then?’’ He pointed to the bottle.

‘‘Gin.’’

They took turns having the first glass.

‘‘So, this Andy fellow… is he your sort then?’’ Jimmy broke the silence, gesturing to Thomas with an open hand. And Thomas might have thought it odd that he was about to bring up Andy as well if he hadn’t been so taken aback by the actual question.

‘‘ _What_?’’

‘‘What? Is he like you?’’ He raised his eyebrows and had the audacity to smirk. ‘‘Have you lured him into any indecent activities?’’

‘‘Blimey, not you too, Jimmy.’’ Thomas looked like he’d sooner go back to the trenches than keep on this conversation.

‘‘Is he like- not fit enough? I wouldn’t know.’’ He mumbled around the glass that was in his hands now. Thomas had to busy his own with a cigarette.

‘‘Fuck you, Jimmy.’’ Thomas shook his head.

‘‘Excuse me?’’ Jimmy looked puzzled.

‘‘You’re just like the rest of them, then. Won’t give me no credit?’’ Thomas said while lighting his cigarette. He hated the self-pity act, but he really had no energy to compose himself. Too much disappointment hit him like a wave and it showed in his weak tone. 

‘‘What on earth are you on about?” He passed him the glass and Thomas drank before speaking.

‘‘Why does everyone have to assume that any young man to step foot in this house is in danger? I won’t pounce at them first chance I get, I’m not _indecent_. Andy and I are mates.’’ It was getting repetitive having to defend himself so.

‘‘Oh my god, Thomas, I were only joking.’’

‘‘I’m glad one of us finds it funny.’’

‘‘Thomas, I am sorry. I didn’t know they gave you a hard time over it.’’

His heart leaped at hearing his first name and maybe he was starting to see the problem with Jimmy forgoing the _Mr Barrow_.

‘‘What happened anyway?’’ Jimmy asked tentatively. He took his turn with the drink.

Thomas didn’t get many opportunities to get everything off his chest, so he indulged a little and began to rant, frustrated thoughts running out of his mouth before he could stop them. He described the whole thing, from Andy’s arrival to his reading encounters and everything in the middle. Jimmy looked raging by the end of it.

‘‘So, all is fine with Andy now. But, you know, I think I’m finally tired of never being good enough.’’ He sighed, shoulders slouching. He took one drag of his cigarette and continued before his statement got too big. ‘‘It may serve me good, getting sacked. Mrs Hughes says it could help me make some friends, find the right person.’’ Thomas finished on a small voice, throwing his head back and closing his eyes.

‘‘That’s a load of rubbish.’’ Jimmy slammed the glass on the table and started filling it again. Thomas’ eyes snapped back to him at the sound and he was met with a pronounced frown. Jimmy looked about ready to throw a tantrum.

‘‘You don’t think I’ll find the right person?’’ He grabbed the gin before Jimmy could.

‘‘I don’t think you ought to leave Downton. It weren’t the place for me, but I can see that you belong here. You are committed to this house and family, you are a loyal man, Thomas.”

‘‘You’re gonna wear my name out.’’ He spoke from behind the glass, but he didn’t drink.

‘‘It really is you who should run the abbey, become the new butler. Carson is old enough to retire now, why doesn’t he?’’ 

Jimmy stretched his arm across the little table and stole Thomas’ cigarette where it was hanging from his mouth, pressing two knuckles into his lips ever so slightly. Both of them took deep breaths to shake away the thrill that ran through them. Thomas had a sip, then. 

‘‘Why did you come back, Jimmy?’’ And it sounded like he’d been holding back that question ever since they shook hands back at the pub. Maybe he had. 

There was a pause as Jimmy finished the cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray. Thomas could see him come up with fake answers and discard them as fast as they came, like he was debating whether or not to pretend he didn’t understand what Thomas meant. He opened his mouth once but decided against it and just sighed heavily instead.

‘‘Do you want the truth or the half-truth?’’ He finally settled for.

‘‘What do you think?’’ Thomas said softly. 

Jimmy’s gaze dropped to the floor and he shook his head with his eyes open wide. 

‘‘Well, I don’t think I can give you the full truth yet.’’ 

Thomas chuckled fondly and when Jimmy looked up, he saw the question in his face. _Then why do you ask._ He felt his own features soften into a half smile.

‘‘Um, well… It’s not safe to say yet, but Mr Ronan is looking to open a shop here in York. That’s the mysterious errand I had to run. I never explained that. And, um, if- Well, if that were the case, I could move back ‘ere. Maybe run it meself, although he laughed at me when I suggested that. But he’ll come around.’’ Jimmy winked at him with a cocky smile that didn’t help mask the self-consciousness of his tone, although there was no obvious reason for him to be nervous. 

‘‘That… that’s fantastic, Jimmy. Congratulations. Do send my condolences to Mr Ronan, though. He won’t live to see that shop earn a single penny, if you have anything to do with it.’’ 

‘‘Ha, ha, very funny.’’

‘‘So, you’d be around.’’ Thomas concluded, and it came out much softer than he’d intended.

‘‘I’d be around.’’ Jimmy confirmed, just as softly and he smirked as they locked eyes.

‘‘Hang on, though, explain to me again how your boss sends you on a three day trip and you manage to turn it into a Grand Tour.’’ He asked with a twirl of his finger, shaking his head and smiling a little. 

‘‘Ah, that was quite smart, listen to this,’’ he straightened on his chair and almost fell to the side, the drink finally catching up to him. ‘‘So today is Sunday, right? He told me to use the first and last day for travel, and that he’d set up a meeting with the current landlord of the shop for Saturday, all I had to do was check out the place and make sure the layout was similar to the shop in London, for convenience. _But_ I used the telephone when he was away and moved the meeting forward for Friday, because I knew I could manage the trip from London on the same day, I’ve done it before. So that’s two days gained, and then I asked for my day off, so I could take it here. He got a bit suspicious but he’s not a bright one, Mr Ronan, so he didn’t ask many questions. I’d been planning this ever since he mentioned York, you know.’’. 

‘‘What, an escapade?’

‘‘Coming to see you.’’

‘‘Ah.’’ Thomas’ heart raced and his brain was struggling to tame all the hope that bubbled in his chest. ‘‘How long have you known then?’’ He asked, voice barely above a whisper.

‘‘Well, he’s been thinking of a new shop since March, I immediately suggested Yorkshire and from then he’s had his eye on this particular one for about a month now.’’ Jimmy answered quickly.

‘‘Since March?” Thomas said in disbelief, not harshly but the hurt and his fight to remain unfazed flashed across his eyes. Jimmy caught up to what he was thinking and remained quiet, all expression drained from his face. “Why didn’t you write sooner, Jimmy?’’

‘‘I told you, Thomas, I couldn’t.’’ The shift in their moods was palpable.

‘‘Oh, bullshit.’’

 _‘‘What_?’’

‘‘You just said you’d been planning this for months. Why?’’ Thomas was tired. Tired, and lonely and nearly jobless and hurt, always hurt. He knew it hadn’t always been Jimmy, but right now he couldn’t remember anything else. He saw Jimmy screaming and pushing him away in the shadows, he saw Jimmy shifting around an uncomfortable apology in the candlelight, he saw him leaving in broad daylight, he saw him coming back at sunset. Never once was Thomas safe, in more sense than one. And once again he’d let himself believe that a beautiful friendship with Jimmy would be enough, and maybe it would. But he couldn’t lose him a second time, not after the things he’d gone through, not after his world had turned into a big world of sadness with no place for him. It felt, now, like Jimmy had always existed next to Thomas, but not on the same plane. Like Thomas could see him and laugh with him and love him but in the end, Jimmy would go about his life, leaving and coming back as he pleased, and Thomas just had to be okay with that. Come to think of it, his whole life felt like that. All the people at Downton saw him and lived with him, but they’d never cared, they’d never even liked him. He would leave without making so much as an impact in this house, save for ruining a few lives. He briefly thought of Master George and Miss Sybbie as the only two people in this household that might miss him, but they’d grow and forget soon enough.

So, right now, drunk and sad, he couldn’t bring himself to guess. His quick brain tailor made for mischief and smart plotting couldn’t understand what Jimmy was doing here, if it had anything to do with Thomas at all, if any of the things he’d told him were true. He just didn’t know, and he needed to hear the truth, plain and simple. 

‘‘I need to _know,_ Jimmy. I’m so tired of not knowing.’’ Thomas lamented. His clean hair was loose, his shirtsleeves were rolled up, his eyes were framed by faint dark circles and he was showing so much emotion, too much emotion. There was no trace of the polished, elegant under-butler devoted only to service and incapable of feelings. Jimmy was mesmerised and terrified in equal measure.

‘‘I just said, I can’t.’’ He whispered, afraid to hurt him further.

‘‘What does that even mean?’’ Thomas wasn’t speaking to him, his eyes were closed once again, head thrown back facing the ceiling. He had his hands in his trouser pockets and he looked ready to fall asleep. He might start crying, instead.

‘‘It means that there’s a very good reason but I can’t speak about it.’’

‘‘Why? Did you kill someone? It wouldn’t be the first illegal thing someone in this room has done, you know.’’

‘‘Don’t mock.’’

‘‘Don’t tell me what to do.’’

‘‘You’re drunk.’’

‘‘I’m hurt.’’

Jimmy sighed. ‘‘I’ll tell you. I will. But not now.’’ He wished Thomas would look at him, see his face and believe him. He didn’t.

‘‘How mysterious.’’

‘‘It’s not about mysterious.’’

‘‘It’s about coward.’’ Thomas snarled. He didn’t mean it, but he was in a petty mood.

‘‘It is.’’ A long silence closed the argument. “Will you still play with me?’’

 _You’ll play with me_ , Thomas thought. Alcohol and misery didn’t mix well for him.

‘‘Why not?’’ He finally straightened but didn’t meet Jimmy’s eyes for the rest of the night.

When a few rounds of cards dissipated some of the tension in the room, they said their goodnights with bitter tongues and tired eyes. They knew this wouldn’t drag out tomorrow, that they’d wake up and none of this would feel as important as it did now, but it didn’t make it easier. Thomas couldn’t have known that Jimmy had come back to make things right, to make him happy, to give him what he _wanted_. He couldn’t have known because Jimmy wasn’t brave enough to speak the words and everything he’d said tonight indicated nothing of the sort. He’d spent so many nights missing him that for a while he convinced himself he was exaggerating the memories. That joking with Thomas, smoking with Thomas, and working with Thomas hadn’t actually been as thrilling as he remembered. But it had been, he could see that now. Reuniting with him brought back all the memories Jimmy had been desperately trying to lock away on the days when nostalgia hit too hard and living without him wasn’t worth all the effort. He was particularly transfixed by Thomas’ scent, all smoke and faint cologne and _man_. That was a detail he’d missed in replaying their time together over and over in his head, but he couldn’t miss it now.

He’d make it right, tomorrow. They would have a lovely day riding bicycles along the stream, Jimmy would be the bestest pal and hopefully he’d manage to say what he needed to say. Maybe they could have a picnic. Jimmy would make sure to ask Mrs Patmore for some nice bits and surprise Thomas with it. Jimmy fell asleep planning, Thomas fell asleep crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the wise words of Alfie Solomons: rum is for fun and fucking.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously hope you're enjoying this.

The next morning, they coincidentally walked out of their rooms at the same time. Really, it was such a coincidence that Thomas had decided to go down at the same exact moment that Jimmy had been listening through his door for the past hour.

‘‘Morning, Mr Barrow.’’ He greeted with a big smile plastered on his face. Jimmy was determined to pretend last night never happened, with the full knowledge that it had. Meaning, he’d go back to calling him Mr Barrow and he’d try not to get too close, maybe tone down the cheek, but he’d still tease him and make him laugh and be the good mate he knew he could be. Call it damage control.

‘‘Morning, Jimmy.’’ Thomas looked at him suspiciously, but his tone didn’t reflect any resentment. They made their way to the stairs.

‘‘Should we visit that bike shop today, then?’’ Jimmy asked enthusiastically, hopping down the steps rapidly.

‘‘Alright, yes. But let’s grab some breakfast first.’’

They had breakfast alone in the servants’ hall as everyone else was on duty. Thomas sipped his tea and read a discarded newspaper while Jimmy stuffed his mouth with toast. He snuck to the kitchen when he was done to tell Mrs Patmore about his picnic idea while Thomas finished eating in a much more decent speed. They discussed the best options for a meal on the outdoors for two gentlemen incapable of boiling an egg and she protested a little for the last-minute execution, but she helped, nonetheless. They decided on the simple but effective sandwiches and some cider. Jimmy made sure to ask for some tangerines which he knew to be in season, and then he stole some berries, because he’d once heard Thomas saying that he enjoyed them. When he was fixing up the basket with all its contents it occurred to him he would have to walk to town with it and then carry it on his bike, somehow. That eliminated the element of surprise, of course, but he could still woo Thomas some other way. On the five second lapse of time when Mrs Patmore made the mistake of leaving him alone in the kitchen, he snatched two beautiful fairy cakes freshly frosted with a pink paste that Jimmy had never tried, but it didn’t look like it could taste anything other than delicious.

In the empty hall, Thomas was gathering strength to face one more day full of golden hair, toothy smiles, and customary heartbreak. He’d woken up with an abnormal sense of peace, so he wasn’t in the mood to sulk and lament. This made it much easier to pretend that he didn’t need all the things that Jimmy could not give him, because his friendship was enough.

Once outside, just to humour him, he inquired about the huge basket he was obnoxiously struggling to carry. When they’d both walk out into the back yard, it looked like Jimmy was actually trying to hide it, holding it behind his back. That lasted for about eight seconds when he realised he couldn’t walk properly, and his shoulders started to strain. So, he put on a show, huffing and puffing, swaying the basket around hoping Thomas would notice and offer to carry it. Its contents weren’t even that heavy, it was just the bloody basket.

‘‘Here, Mr Barrow, could you please carry it for a while?’’ Jimmy handed him it, defeated and a little breathless. He was waddling, leaning to his left to make up for the weight of it on his right side.

‘‘You still haven’t told me what’s in it.’’ Thomas said, taking the basket from him. Jimmy straightened and rolled his shoulders back to stretch them.

‘‘Well, a picnic, of course.’’ He had that ridiculous frown he wore so frequently.

‘‘And did you pack the whole silverware cabinet as well?’’

‘‘Might as well have.’’ He muttered.

They passed the basket back and forth a couple of times during the walk into town. Although they were both turning a blind eye to the fact that Jimmy would hold it for five minutes and then would wait ten to take it back, leaving Thomas to carry it for the better part of the journey. So much for being the best mate.

When they arrived at the shop they were greeted by a lovely lady, presumably the one Thomas had mentioned. It wasn’t a big shop, nor was it too small. Jimmy wondered how she came to run it, evidently, by herself. She welcomed them and immediately recognised Thomas. Jimmy watched a bit awed as Thomas struck casual conversation, asking her questions, and laughing openly. He looked like a completely different man, inviting and friendly. Not that Thomas wasn’t ever friendly or inviting with him, but it wasn’t as natural when it came to other people. Yet evidently something about this woman made him talkative and pleasant. _It must be because she doesn’t know him_ , Jimmy thought to himself. _He can be a new person around her_.

They picked up their bikes and, true to her word, she didn’t charge them. But before they left, Thomas mysteriously ran off leaving Jimmy behind with the promise of being quick. Jimmy stood awkwardly and conversed offhandedly with the lady- Betty, he learned. Thomas came trotting back with a dozen fresh scones he bought from the bakery across the street. He gifted them to Betty, who accepted them with a kind smile and rosy cheeks. Then they rode off, balancing the picnic basket on the back of Jimmy’s bike, tied with a few borrowed ropes.

For a while, Thomas led the way, and while the motion and the noisy wind justified the lack of conversation, it eventually became obvious to Jimmy that something about last night still lingered in between them.

‘‘Do you like riding, Mr Barrow?’’ Jimmy asked catching up to him, for something to say.

‘‘I do, yes. Did it a lot when I was younger. You?’’

‘‘Not so much. I know how, but I had a pretty nasty fall a couple of years back. Put me off of it.’’ He said, a bit embarrassed.

‘‘Oh, you should’ve said. We didn’t have to do it.’’ He turned to glance at him, looking worried.

‘‘No, I don’t mind it. Could be fun. Oh, look-’’ he nodded to his right, unnecessarily lifting his hand off the handle to point to the water creeping its way through the trees. He was trying to show off, but his bike wobbled a little and so he hastily put his hand back on the handle. ‘‘There’s the stream.’’ He added, casually.

‘‘Let’s go closer.’’ Thomas said, faking indifference to his little stunt.

The detoured off of the road into mushy grass to get to the water’s edge, still on their bikes.

‘‘It looks so inviting, doesn’t it?’’ Jimmy said assessing the clear water, exposing the rocks underneath and a few fish swimming about.

‘‘It’ll be terribly cold but maybe we could dip our feet.’’ Thomas pointed.

‘‘You’d want to do that?’’ Jimmy asked, like the mere thought of Thomas in the water was too ridiculous to suggest.

‘‘Yes, what’s so weird about that?’’ He said, coming to a full stop and getting off his bicycle. Jimmy did the same.

‘‘Just didn’t take you for an outdoorsy person, that’s all.’’ He explained while they stationed their bikes near a tree.

‘‘Then you don’t know the first thing about me. I like being in the sun, though England won’t much allow it.’’

‘‘You didn’t seem to enjoy it too much at the beach.’’

‘‘That’s because I wasn’t dressed for it, the sand was getting everywhere, and I was surrounded by the whole downstairs lot. It wasn’t dissimilar to entertaining outside.’’

He was carefully untying his shoelaces while Jimmy carelessly slid out of his own shoes and yanked his socks off. Both bared feet, they walked towards the water that was flowing calmly, encouraged by a soft gust of wind. They had to roll their trousers up their ankles and when Thomas pointed out a small fish dancing among their feet, Jimmy was too focused glimpsing at his legs to notice. There was something so suggestive about such a small part of him being revealed. It shouldn’t affect him so, seeing as the previous night he had walked in on him _bathing_. What that whole affair was about, Jimmy had no idea. Something had taken over him to make him bold enough to even try that. Probably the same thing that pulled him to steal Thomas’ cigarettes from his mouth or challenge him to a wrestling match the first night after a year apart. But yesterday in the bathroom, Jimmy had forced himself not to stare, even when he discovered that it proved much harder than he’d anticipated. Now, in the open air, under golden sunlight, it didn’t seem too inappropriate, it was just an ankle. But what a pretty ankle.

Then something stung his own uncovered leg.

‘‘Bloody, buggering, _shite_.’’ Jimmy cursed loudly through his teeth when he felt the sharp pain stabbing his skin. He immediately rose his left foot to rest on his right knee, bending it slightly while leaning on Thomas for support.

‘‘What’s the matter?’’ Thomas spun around to face him, and a strand of hair fell on his forehead, free of the pomade from the sweat. He extended his arm around Jimmy’s back to offer more stability while checking for the problem. Jimmy focused on it for a second before the pang shot through him again and he clenched his face.

‘‘Oh, blimey, I think I just got stung. Oh my god, it hurts.’’ He whined in a pitched voice, squeezing Thomas’ shoulder.

‘‘It must’ve been a wasp, come here.’’ He guided him onto a dry rock by the edge and kneeled down in front of him, picking up his foot to examine it. ‘‘Oh, no, the sting is still there. That means it was a bee.’’ He explained, looking up at Jimmy. Jimmy watched his eyes catch the sun and glimmer beautifully, but it was hard to appreciate them when it felt like his foot was going to fall off.

‘‘I really don’t particularly care _what_ it was, Mr Barrow. It hurts like a bitch.’’

‘‘You curse too much.’’

‘‘Oh, I’m sorry- Does my impertinent language offend you, m’lady?’’ Jimmy snapped. Then his face whitened, his eyebrows shot up and his mouth parted. ‘‘Oh, bollocks. No, I’m only teasing, Thomas. I’m sorry, I know you are a man, I just sa-’’ He was interrupted when Thomas burst out laughing. Jimmy visibly relaxed and dropped his head with an embarrassed chuckle.

‘‘Well, if you _know_ , then there’s no point in me telling you. What a shame, I had prepared a whole speech.’’ Thomas said, his words mixing with giggles. He was still holding Jimmy’s ankle.

‘‘You know what I mean.’’

‘‘Alright, stop ridiculing yourself for two minutes and let me take care of this.’’ He squeezed out the sting with experimented fingers.

‘‘I thought you weren’t meant to pull out the sting like that.’’ Jimmy commented quietly, watching him work.

‘‘Most people think that, but it’s best to squeeze it out rapidly and prevent it from pouring more venom.’’ He moved to wash the troubled area with water. ‘‘Does it still hurt?’’

‘‘Not too bad.’’ Jimmy lied. It wasn’t agony but he had to keep from flinching every time Thomas’ hands rubbed the wound. He simply had a low pain threshold, although he’d get stung by a thousand bees before confessing that. Thomas gave him a look like he saw right through him but didn’t say anything.

‘‘Alright, that’s as much as I can do for now, it’ll swell down in a minute. Let’s go find a place to lie down and have that lunch.’’ He stood and lingered for a few seconds, watching Jimmy do the same, waiting to see if he needed any help.

‘‘I’m alright, I can manage.’’ Jimmy muttered, half walking, half hoping towards the bikes.

They put their socks and shoes back on their now dry feet. Jimmy winced loudly when he felt the friction of his sock against the sore spot, sending a new wave of pain running through his body.

‘‘Oh, don’t be such a wuss. Just get on your bike and ride.’’ Thomas mocked, already mounted on his.

Jimmy shot him a glare but obeyed. They rode for a few minutes, slowly so that Jimmy didn’t have to force his leg too much. Thomas abstained from further mocking, but he did find it funny that someone as hot headed as Jimmy was actually this bad at injuries. They came up to a clear in a meadow, far enough from the stream that the trees were fewer and further apart, but close enough to still hear the water flowing and crashing against the rocks. They got off and started unpacking the contents of the basket, that had made it safe and sound in the back of Jimmy’s bike. While Jimmy fought with the picnic blanket trying to lay it down on the grass, Thomas stood to the side, holding the food and the drink, watching him struggle.

‘‘It’s alright, I’ll have this down in the next few hours, don’t you worry, you.’’ Jimmy complained loudly, voice filled with sarcasm. Thomas cackled.

‘‘You have to be smart about it, Jimmy, go _with_ the wind, not against it.’’ Thomas said when he could tone down his laughter. Jimmy sent his way something in between a pout and a scowl, but eventually, he followed his advice.

When they finally sat down, Jimmy took out two tangerines that were still sitting at the bottom of the basket. Thomas caught the one thrown at him and started on peeling it.

‘‘Did you find any glasses in there, Mr Barrow?’’ He asked, still working on his own fruit.

‘‘Don’t call me Mr Barrow after I cleaned and cured your stinky feet.’’ He said and popped a slice in his mouth. Jimmy chuckled.

‘‘You’re right, I’m sorry.’’ Then he schooled his features into a blank expression. ‘‘Tell me, _darling_ , did you find any glasses, or should I simply pour some sider in your belly button and drink it straight from there?’’

Thomas choked on a piece of tangerine and struggled to recompose. 

‘‘There weren’t any glasses, no. But we can drink from the bottle.’’ He mumbled, an intense flush painting his cheeks all the way down to his neck. Jimmy laughed at him, but his own joke had left him a little flustered as well.

They ate and drank in comfortable silence, enjoying each other’s company. They munched on the berries first and then Jimmy presented the pink cakes that he’d hidden unsubtly inside a napkin. He made a mental note, as they finished, to buy a camera and a dozen more of those cakes so he could immortalise the picture of Thomas eating such delicate treats.

Thomas leaned back on his arms when he was done, stretching his legs. Jimmy was sitting crossed legged next to him when he asked,

‘‘Are you not the least bit excited about leaving Downton?’’

‘‘Not really.’’ He answered pensively. ‘‘I don’t do well with new beginnings, people tend to get the wrong impression of me. Managed to get everyone in Downton to hate me within the first week of working there. I did some childish things that surely didn’t help my case, but…’’ He drifted with a shrug. ‘‘Never mind that, I’ll have to leave it all behind.’’ He smiled small up at Jimmy.

‘‘You seemed fine with Betty, back at the shop.’’ That earned a genuine smile from Thomas, and a warm laugh.

‘‘Well, she’s lovely. And she’s only met me a couple times.’’ He pointed.

‘‘Or maybe you’ve changed a little in fifteen years.’’ Jimmy offered.

‘‘Oh, I’ve changed and no mistake. I did some nasty things back in my days that I wouldn’t repeat now. That doesn’t make me likable.’’

‘‘I think you are likable.’’

‘‘Oh, well, of course. You would’ve loved me around then.’’ He smirked. Thomas imagined what it would’ve been like to have Jimmy in the house on the days before the war, like when William was there. It made for an odd picture, Thomas being younger and eviler, picking on the one person who deserved it the least. Jimmy would’ve celebrated every one of his wicked plots, probably would’ve joined in too. In a way, he was glad enough people stopped him from going too far, as thinking of William now left a bitter taste in Thomas’ mouth. The taste of shame and regret, that he was all too familiar with.

‘‘Are the rumours true, then? Were you worse before I arrived?’’ Jimmy smiled.

‘‘I was. You’ve softened me. I’ve lost my essence.’’ He grieved dramatically.

They didn’t say anything more for a while, the chirping of birds filling in the silence. The events that followed were so momentous that they made Jimmy completely forget about any pain the sting had caused.

‘‘I think I’m ready to tell you the full truth, Thomas.’’ Jimmy said, changing the course of the conversation with furrowed brows.

‘‘Go on, then.’’ Thomas caught up, shifting his weight onto his right elbow so he was leaning ever so slightly towards Jimmy.

‘‘Only, I’m aware this is our last day, so I figured I should just tell you now. Um.’’ He exhaled a nervous laugh. ‘‘Well, it’s quite hard to say.’’

‘‘Take your time.’’ Thomas said softly, and he closed his eyes to bask in the sun that had just peeked out from behind a soft cloud.

‘‘The reason I came back,’’ He started, ‘‘was because I realised that I lo- Wait.’’ He stopped abruptly at the last second, ground breaking confession dying on his tongue. How anticlimactic. Thomas’ eyes opened. ‘‘You aren’t- There isn’t... a _man_ in your life, now, is there?’’ He asked worriedly. This was the first time he contemplated that possibility. 

‘‘A man?’’

‘‘You know, a-’’ He cleared his throat. ‘‘A sweetheart. A lover, whatever you call it.’’

‘‘When was there ever?’’ Thomas laughed. Then, his tone became suspicious. ‘‘Why?’’

‘‘Well, because I think I’m in love with you.’’ Jimmy blurted. There was a terribly long pause. ‘‘So that would make it awkward.’’ He added because he couldn’t stand the silence.

After a few more seconds, Thomas sighed. ‘‘No, Jimmy. You’re not.’’ He closed his eyes again.

‘‘Pardon me?’’ He hadn’t made a list of possible answers he was expecting, but if he had, this wouldn’t have made the cut.

‘‘Look, it’s fairly normal to be curious. You are a terrible flirt, you’d throw yourself at anything that walked just for the fun of it. And I know you and I get along, and you are trying to understand how I am, and I do appreciate it. Maybe it makes you wonder about the way of things.’’ He was speaking slowly, carefully, like he had thought about this before. ‘‘I’ve seen other men go for it just to try it and then go back to their wives or sweethearts or ladies of the night.’’ He lifted his eyebrows suggestively. ‘‘Fine by me if you want to _experiment_ but I’d rather it weren’t with me-’’ He stopped for a second to picture Jimmy with another man and quickly corrected himself. ‘‘or not- not at all, I just don’t think that’s you, Jimmy, I can see that it’s not. Perhaps you’ve been spendin’ too much time with me. When’s the last time you’ve, ah- been with a lass?’’ He looked up at him, squinting his eyes to avoid the sun. 

Jimmy just stared at him, mouth agape, containing the urge to burst out laughing. 

‘‘Are you quite done?’’

‘‘What?’’

‘‘So, tell me this: you once confessed you like to act like you’re all sure of yourself, but you’re not, really. Do you also pretend to be smart, then? Are you secretly _really_ fucking stupid?’’ He had to chuckle.

Thomas sat upright, an indignant expression plastered on his face. ‘‘What did you just say to me?’’

‘‘No, I’m serious, because I don’t think even Alfred would dare say such silliness.’’ He shook his head. ‘‘I’m not looking for an experiment, Thomas. I love you.’’ He winced at his own words. They locked eyes, now at level, and Jimmy wished Thomas could read it all in his gaze, so that he wouldn’t have to say it out loud and cock it all up in the process.

‘‘You like men?’’ Thomas knew he had just witnessed a love declaration. He knew this because he was there, and his ears worked perfectly fine and it took him a while, but he understood it. Nevertheless, the first though that overtook his brain was the fact that his closest, most dear friend, was like him. Forget the fact that his everlasting love was actually reciprocated. Jimmy was like him. And this meant that there was a glimpse of hope that Thomas’ fantasies would come true. He could be a normal man, they could fit in together. He wasn’t alone anymore.

‘‘No, I don’t like men.’’ Jimmy spat. ‘‘I like you.’’

‘‘Oh.’’ Was it disappointment he felt? Or was it over excitement? Or was it just plain cosmical confusion? ‘‘For how long?’’ Maybe he ought to be angry right now.

‘‘It weren’t like this when we were working together.’’ He clarified. ‘‘Or maybe it were, but I didn’t see it until recently.’’ He let his gaze wonder away from Thomas’ face and into the distance. ‘‘It’s true I stopped writing because I missed you and it made me sad. But mostly I had to make sure I wasn’t missing you _too_ much. And it turns out I was. At one point I stopped taking an interest in girls, think of that.’’ He laughed at himself, but his smile turned into an inquisitive frown. ‘‘Actually, maybe I do fancy blokes.’’ He said, thinking back to one particular morning after a sleepless night of overthinking, when a tall, dark haired man came into the shop and knocked the wind out of Jimmy with a flashing smile. He’d thought it was Thomas, but even when he saw he wasn’t, Jimmy couldn’t stop staring. Something about him was so attractive.

‘‘It’s alright if you do.’’ Thomas said, rather quietly.

‘‘I know it’s alright with you.’’ Jimmy smiled at him.

‘‘Is that why you were throwing Andy all those nasty looks over dinner last night?’’

‘‘You saw that?’’ Jimmy’s previous nerves were topped with more embarrassment.

‘‘I have eyes, don’t I?’’ Thomas smiled. He couldn’t wrap his head around everything quite yet, but he was pretty sure that was an act of jealousy of some kind. How amusing.

‘‘I thought by then he might have beat me to it. I was just being silly.’’ He shook his head and chuckled at himself.

‘‘And is that why you are so obsessed with Valentino?’’ Thomas smirked.

‘‘I’m not obsessed.’’

‘‘It is, isn’t it?’’ He insisted.

‘‘He looks a bit like you, is all.’’ He mumbled, looking straight into his eyes despite the flush creeping up his face. Maybe he was just attracted to men who looked like Thomas Barrow.

‘‘Well, I am a great lover, I’ll give you that.’’ Thomas joked, although his mind was going a million miles an hour.

‘‘Show me, then.’’ Jimmy dared with false bravado.

Thomas looked a bit shocked, collecting his thoughts. He studied Jimmy’s face and saw him turn shy when Thomas took too long to answer. This was it, then. The moment his life turned good.

He leaned in and kissed him, his hands following soon after to cup his cheeks. It was chaste, and soft, like the wind that blew past them, surrounding them with the smell of summer. When they parted, Jimmy sighed, too dumbfounded to say anything.

‘‘I’ll be your very own Valentino.’’ Thomas said theatrically and finished with a timid chuckle.

‘‘Oscar Wilde, more like.’’ Jimmy retorted, still a bit breathless.

They both laughed and Thomas shoved his shoulder hard enough to knock him on his back. He laid down beside him, both of them looking up at the sky. They spent the next few minutes silently contemplating everything, from the events of the past days to all the things they went through to get here. Thomas realised quite suddenly that Jimmy had come back just when he was about to put an end to everything. To his life, to his misery, to his hopeless future. He felt the first wave of happiness in years overtake him and he could see with perfect clarity that he had, mere days ago, been ready to give it all up. He turned his head to observe Jimmy from up close, because it dawned on him that he could do that now and found him already staring. Thomas beamed and Jimmy’s eyes dropped to his lips. He breathed out a quiet ‘oh my god’ and rolled his eyes, laughing at himself and looking back up to the sky.

‘‘What?’’ Thomas asked.

‘‘I’m just overwhelmed, that’s all.’’ He turned back and his skin radiated gold with the sun. ‘‘You are very handsome, Thomas.’’ He added.

Thomas’ breath hitched. ‘‘My, I think I’m going slightly mad.’’ He looked away, embarrassed.

‘‘It’s difficult for me to say these things, you know. It feels wrong to direct them at a bloke.’’ He muttered.

‘‘I know, Jimmy, don’t worry.’’ He smiled, reassuringly. ‘‘It does add a nice thrill to it, does it not?’’ They laughed together again.

‘‘It does.’’ Jimmy agreed, scrunching up his nose. After a minute, Jimmy shuffled closer and rotated a little without getting up, resting the back of his head on Thomas’ chest.

‘‘Can I- I can do this now, can’t I?’’ He asked, still looking up, his arms crossed on his stomach.

‘‘Won’t get an objection from me.’’ Thomas waited a few more seconds before tentatively resting his hand on Jimmy’s upper arm, not quite embracing him. This is where all those years of mischievous plotting came in handy, he thought. They had taught him a great deal about the virtues of patience, and he would need all he could get of it. Jimmy leaned into his touch, though, so he knew it was the right move. Normally, this is where Thomas would’ve pulled out a cigarette, to busy his hands and feel his body relax with every mouthful of smoke. But for the first time his heart was so light and the air around him so pure, that it seemed wrong to taint them so.

‘‘We ought to start back, soon.’’ Thomas pointed, reluctantly.

‘‘Hmm.’’

None of them moved until a whole colony of ants started climbing their way up Jimmy’s leg and he decided he’d had enough of bugs for the day.

They rode back into town to return the bikes and Jimmy used the journey to wonder about all the things that would change with them now, the things they could say, the things they could do. _Would_ do. It would mean getting to know Thomas in a completely new light, and the thought of it sent a shiver running down his spine. At one point he slowed down a bit so Thomas could pass him, and he seized the opportunity to really watch him from behind. Not creepily, mind, just taking in the sight. But then Thomas let go of one side of his handle, sitting straighter and continuing to elegantly ride with only one hand, his other arm hanging graciously by his side. Jimmy found it so sensual he fell of his bike.

‘‘Oh my god, what is the matter with you today, you massive clodhopper?’’ Thomas turned his head to tease loud enough that his voice would carry, as he put more distance between them riding away, leaving Jimmy on the ground. Jimmy dusted himself off and kept his eyes on the road for the rest of the way into Ripon.

After leaving Betty’s shop they strolled back to the pub, where they would part ways for the time being. Thomas had to be back for dinner and Jimmy had to catch the night train back to London.

‘‘I’ll be back before you know it. I’m thinking I’ll volunteer to come and make the payment meself when Mr Ronan decides for this place.’’ Jimmy had his hands in his pockets as they walked.

‘‘I’ll miss you.’’ Thomas confessed candidly, looking at him through the corner of his eye but facing forward. Jimmy looked a bit taken aback but he quickly recovered with a smile.

‘‘Me too.’’

When they reached the pub, Jimmy stopped a few steps from the door. He suddenly looked a little tense and he cleared his throat before speaking.

‘‘Listen, Thomas. I know it’s not fair to ask this, but I’ll need you to be patient with me, take it slow.’’ He glanced both ways, looking for any people who might overhear him. ‘‘I’m not quite used to… being _like this_ -’’ He whispered that las part with a pinched expression, like he was confessing a nasty little secret. Thomas ignored the pang of hurt and forced himself to be sympathetic to Jimmy’s feelings. ‘‘And to be honest, I still see you as my best mate. A _special_ mate. But, you know- and I don’t mean any offense by this,’’ Thomas decided that the exasperated look on his face must mean honesty. ‘‘I’m not fully like you, I don’t think.’’

‘‘I understand, Jimmy.’’ He didn’t, really. But he was willing to try. ‘‘You don’t have to be like me if it’s not who you are. I’d just appreciated it if you knew what you want before asking me for it.’’ He shook his head at the surreal feeling of saying these words to him instead of the other way around. ‘‘Or if you don’t want to be with me-’’

‘‘No, I do want to be with you. I do.’’ He swallowed the lump in his throat, a mixture of anxiety and anticipation clouding his head. ‘‘I’m just not sure what that means. But I know,’’ He took a deep breath. ‘‘that I can’t be away from you. And it’s not just your camaraderie I want.’’

Thomas held a steady gaze when he said ‘‘I love you, Jimmy.’’

In an equally serious tone, Jimmy answered ‘‘No, I mean because you hold all the cigarettes.’’

Thomas scoffed and turned away while Jimmy giggled contagiously, forcing Thomas to chuckle as well.

‘‘I’m sorry, I promise I won’t make a joke of it all. You make me a bit flustered, to be honest.’’ He scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

Thomas never ceased to be surprised at Jimmy’s honesty, the way he could say such things to him without much thought. He still kept his secrets and Thomas knew there were always things Jimmy wasn’t voicing. But he still said so much more than Thomas would ever dare, having lived most of his life in hiding, keeping up walls and defences. Sometimes it felt he spoke more lies than truths. 

‘‘Off with you then, they’ll miss you in service.’’ Jimmy said when Thomas failed to respond.

‘‘We’ll write this time? Before we meet again.’’

‘‘I’m not crossing the pond, Thomas, it’s just London. Of course we’ll write, but I’ll be back soon enough. Or maybe you can visit me.’’ He offered.

‘‘That could be fun. I’ll have to see about my days off in the new house, though.’’

‘‘Oh, do write when you make the move. I want to know everything.’’

‘‘I’ll keep you updated.’’ Thomas promised.

Then he took off his cap and subtlety dropped it to the ground. He waited until Jimmy made the move to crouch down and get it, only to do the same. When they were both at the same height, he leaned forward and whispered in his ear.

‘‘I’d really like to kiss you right now.’’ And stood up quickly, leaving Jimmy staring stupidly at the road in front of him.

He brushed off his cap and put it back in his head, fixing a few strands that refused to stay in place. Jimmy snapped out of it and when he rose again, his knees wobbled. 

‘‘I’d really like that too.’’ He said with a hoarse voice.

Thomas winked and turned to leave. ‘‘Bye, Jimmy.’’

‘‘Bye.’’ Jimmy said not nearly loud enough for Thomas to hear as he walked away. He coughed, sorting himself out and made his way into the pub. When he walked in, he saw the dismantled clock still laying all over the floor and cursed to himself.

Over the course of the next few months, Thomas and Jimmy wrote to each other frequently. The visits were not as frequent, but they were much more exciting, and they managed to fit four or five of them into their busy schedules. Thomas eventually left Downton Abbey and started off in the new house. He told Jimmy everything there was to tell, the difference, the similarities, the disadvantages and the very few advantages. He told him everything except for how much he missed the old job. He didn’t need to, though, because Jimmy could tell. In the words he wrote in the letters, in the way his face dropped, and his body tensed when they met and he talked about it, Jimmy knew that Thomas wasn’t happy. He was head over heels in love with Jimmy, that much was obvious, but the laughs and the smiles didn’t mean he was happy, he was just distracted.

On the other hand, there was Jimmy’s moving issue. It appeared his boss had made up his mind about the shop in York, but contrary to what Jimmy initially suspected, Mr Ronan decided to let Jimmy manage the shop in London and move himself to Yorkshire for a change of scenery. That’s why it was Mr Ronan himself who travelled to York to make the final payment while Jimmy stayed put, cursing everything and everyone. Thomas didn’t know this in detail because it wasn’t set in stone and Jimmy would sooner chop off his right arm than present him with another problem. So, every time Thomas asked about it, Jimmy would mutter something along the lines of the many responsibilities of owning a shop and facing difficult decisions or the hardships of running a business. He was working on it, anyway.

It wasn’t all logistical changes, though. Their relationship was shifting, too. Slowly, like Jimmy had asked and Thomas had promised, but faster than the both of them had anticipated. Jimmy’s insecurities and inexperience melted away like wax before a fire within their first night together. In fact, it was Thomas who had to pull away and remind him not to take too much too soon, or else he might get uncomfortable. Both metaphorically and not. So that first encounter in Jimmy’s London flat was limited to cosy snuggles and passionate snogging sessions, but nothing else. They weren’t that conservative on their next ones and Thomas soon lost the ability to get a good night’s sleep without Jimmy’s bare back pressed to his chest. Two months and three weeks into their newfound love, they were positively living heaven on earth.

That was until Thomas learned the truth about Jimmy’s future in the shop. They had an argument about it, their first lover’s quarrel if you will. Jimmy learned Thomas got a bit dense when mad, and he couldn’t get it through his head that Jimmy had only meant to spare him the stress, that it wasn’t about lying to him and he certainly didn’t rejoice in keeping things from him. On Thomas’ end, he learned that Jimmy was very loud when angry. Loud enough that at one point he had to cover his mouth with his hands to keep his neighbours from hearing and rising suspicion. It took only a few seconds for his hand to wonder down and anger very quickly turned to lust. One long month since then went by before Jimmy could finally take a day off and reunite with Thomas. But by then, the butler was away in Rome, accompanying the new family in a two-week-long holiday.

This is why he never learned that the first week of December Mr Ronan suffered a stroke. Jimmy had been in the shop with him, receiving the shock of a lifetime. He had been the one burdened with the task of calling an ambulance and keeping him alive before the nurses and doctors took over, but he wasn’t otherwise affected. Later that night, hanging back in the hospital after the doctors assured him Mr Ronan would recover, he had a selfish and frivolous but clever thought.

Once Mr Ronan was back in his flat, which was right above the shop, Jimmy offered to care for him until he was fully recuperated from the episode. Mr Ronan’s eyes shone with gratitude and Jimmy felt just a little guilty about his alternate motives. The days that followed he spent every waking hour in his employer’s house, making him more tea than any man could drink, attempting and failing to cook him lunch and dinner and feeding his cat, which he was allergic to but desperate times call for desperate measures. All the while, preaching about _blessed hospitals and expert doctors one could only find in London_ or _oh, London, the best city for medical care, with the fastest ambulances and the kindest nurses in England_ and _the latest medical discoveries were first applied in London, did you know that, Mr Ronan?_ Followed by a few horrific stories about domestic accidents he’d lived first-hand back at home, which ended in the tragic death of a couple made up relatives. _They would still be here if they’d been treated in London_. Sometimes Jimmy stayed after dinner to care for him and tend to his needs while simultaneously presiding the Defame-All-Yorkshire-Hospitals-Campaign. Mr Ronan listened to all his rambling and absorbed every detail. By the time his recovery period was over, and he was allowed to start working again, Jimmy had planted a seed.

In an unrelated but very much relevant note, back at Downton and unbeknownst to everyone, Charles Carson was experiencing the first signs of a hereditary disease he knew meant the end of his career as butler. He was having his weekly meltdown (which consisted of nothing more than staring anxiously at his trembling hands and slouching his shoulders just a tad) in the privacy of his pantry. But then Mrs Hughes barged in to talk about Christmas preparations and his sorrow lifted, if only a little.

It was the Thursday of New Year’s Eve when all the pieces fell into place for Thomas Barrow, and much like every other major success in his life, it was through no fault of his own. Jimmy was in town again, staying in Grantham Arms this time because it wasn’t a business trip and so there was no need to put up at a pub in Ripon when he could stay in Downton. Given his recent, ah, _reconnection_ with Thomas, the house had extended their loyalties to him and he had also been invited to the annual party. It was nice, Thomas thought, that they were still kind enough to have him as a guest in spite of everything. It’d been nicer if they wouldn’t have given him the sack in the first place.

They had spent Christmas in Jimmy’s flat because Thomas wasn’t required to work and could afford the trip, meanwhile Jimmy had never worked harder and was at the shop every day until Christmas Day itself. It was a cosy and joyful time. Jimmy picked him up at the station and they shared a nice meal, courtesy of Jimmy’s landlady. Lots of sex, as well, to make up for the lack of meaningful gifts.

This time around, Thomas couldn’t manage to pick Jimmy up at the station, so the first time they saw each other was before making their way to the Abbey. They were to meet at Grantham Arms and wait for Branson who, for both their surprises, had offered to give them a lift. It was an odd proposal, given that Thomas hadn’t seen the man for so long, let alone had a conversation, and all he’d ever been to him was indifferent or just plain nasty. They’d only been friendly a couple of times, but that was mostly due to fair games or generally joyful affairs, not on his own accord. But after he received the little letter in his new workplace, he mulled it over for a few days and he replied cautiously, mentioning that Jimmy would be coming along as well and expressing his gratitude, although not overly so. He decided to take it as a peace offering and not the show of approval he actually knew it to be after their little encounter in town a few months back. Jimmy had been subtly holding his hand while they strolled down a quiet alley, when they were sure no one was around, and Thomas had let him because it wasn’t often they could enjoy things like that. Branson had walked out of a shop just then and he couldn’t contain his shock fast enough when he caught them. Once he regained control of his features he served them a polite smile that passed a lot like an amused smirk. Jimmy had all but thrown himself across the sidewalk, putting distance between them, and greeted Branson with an assurance he certainly didn’t possess. Branson returned the greeting, remembering Jimmy well enough, and that was the extent of their interaction, save for Thomas’s threatening glare. The rest of the afternoon for him was spent convincing Jimmy everything would be fine, and they’d _not_ be hanging by the end of the week. But they didn’t hold hands in public again.

Walking into the village, Thomas was excited to see him, of course he was. But every time they met was for a short time and knowing Jimmy wouldn’t be moving after all made the future seem a bit gloomy. As a consequence, he also discovered what it felt like to miss someone that wasn’t gone forever. The felling of missing a person not because they’d passed on to a better life but because they were far away and missing you just as much. It was a bittersweet feeling, one that Thomas would give up in a heartbeat for a chance to never have to miss Jimmy again. He had gotten so close, it had felt almost real, but the possibility of them living together was evidently too good to be true. It had been a fun dream to look up to, if nothing else.

Thomas purposely made it to the pub a half hour earlier than Branson would, which gave him and Jimmy time to meet properly. Except when he arrived at Jimmy’s room, walking right past the barman and up the stairs, he found him sleeping, naked, drooling again, and his hair was a mess.

‘‘Oi, Kent!’’ He snatched the pillow from under him and hit him once with it.

‘‘What the fuck-’’ Jimmy muttered, his voice groggy and his eyes barely open.

‘‘Get off your backside, you lazy bastard. We are supposed to be leaving, have you even bathed?’’

‘‘Oh, good evening, love. How have you been? Long time, no see.’’ Jimmy said distractedly while he looked around for the pillow.

‘‘Don’t mess about, Jimmy, come _on_.’’ Thomas grabbed his arm and forced him upright.

‘‘Alright, alright, get off me.’’ He stood and went to fetch his clothes.

Once he picked up his shirt he walked back to Thomas and kissed him softly.

‘‘You taste like shit.’’ Thomas whispered on his lips. Jimmy blew a mouthful of hot air directly on his face as a response.

He cleaned up and finished dressing in a hurry but made it in time for when Branson showed up. A curt nod was all the greeting Thomas was willing to give, his calculating gaze unwavering even upon Branson’s smile.

‘‘I need to talk to you, later.’’ Jimmy whispered to him as they got in the car, both choosing the back seat.

‘‘We could’ve talked a lot just then if you had been ready when you were supposed to be.’’ Thomas whispered back.

‘‘Sorry.’’ Jimmy mumbled, sensing Thomas irritation. ‘‘I’ll buy you your next pack of cigarettes if you want, to make up for it.’’

‘‘Oh, there’s no if about it.’’

Branson had to hold back a chuckle as he started driving.

‘‘What do you want to talk about?’’

‘‘I said later, didn’t I?’’ Jimmy said in an amused scoff.

‘‘Alright, Johnny Suspense, we’ll talk later.’’ Thomas mocked back, pulling out a cigarette. He was pretty sure it wasn’t smart to smoke inside the car, but he’d had his last one hours ago and not getting to spend time alone with Jimmy was affecting him more than it should.

Jimmy proceeded to make small talk with Branson until they arrived at the abbey, but in the darkness of the car he dared rest his hand on Thomas’ thigh. That helped a little.

When they made it to Downton, Branson let them off at the front door, leaving to park the car. But without saying a word, they both made their way towards the servants’ entrance. It seemed more appropriate, even if it would put up a good show showing up the same way as the upstairs lot. Once in the hall, everyone else was still running around in preparation, so they lounged in the hall for a bit. Thomas lit a new cigarette and struck up conversation with Mr Molesley, not a personal favourite of his, but the only one who appeared unoccupied at the moment. Jimmy wasn’t as invested, so he wondered into the kitchen, a high risk sport at such a busy hour, but no one kicked him out, so he stayed. Daisy was particularly good at keeping conversation while dealing with seven thousand other tasks, even if Mrs Patmore didn’t agree, so Jimmy chatted with her for a bit. Then Mrs Hughes showed up, looking every bit as stressed as Mr Carson did on a regular dinner night (so _, a lot_ ) grumbling about a set of missing tablecloths.

‘‘What’s that, Mrs Hughes?’’ Jimmy inquired.

‘‘Oh, hello, James. Nice to have you back.’’ She said, like she hadn’t noticed him before. ‘‘We had a delivery of new tablecloths this morning, two boxes, but I can’t for the life of me figure out where they’ve placed the second one and I need it for the tables in the upstairs hall.’’ She explained, looking around as though she might find them in a kitchen shelve.

‘‘Did you check the linen closet?’’

‘‘Of course I did!’’ She said indignantly and it sounded so much like a scold that, for a second, Jimmy had the urgency to go change into his livery, run upstairs and start offering drinks.

‘‘Then maybe they left it in the garden, I’ll go check.’’ He offered, drumming his fingers twice on the counter and leaving for the back garden. Mrs Hughes was slightly caught off guard at the sudden act of kindness but she managed to get in a small _thank you_ before Jimmy disappeared.

Jimmy was making his way back, successfully having found the package, when he caught a glimpse of Mr Carson.

‘‘Oh, good evening Mr Carson, have you seen Mrs Hughes?’’ He asked from behind the big box he was holding at chest level. He didn’t get a response right away, so he shifted the box a little to the side, so he could peek his head around it. ‘‘Only, I need to get this to her before-’’ He noticed then, that Mr Carson was facing the wall with his eyes closed and one hand supporting him against it, and he appeared to be breathing in and out profoundly, collecting himself, presumably not even registering Jimmy’s words.

‘‘Mr Carson, are you unwell?’’ That got his attention.

‘‘I’m perfectly fine, James, thank you.’’ His eyes were hooded, like opening them all the way implied too much work. ‘‘You can find Mrs Hughes in her study, surely.’’ He looked at Jimmy dismissively and when he didn’t leave, he continued with threatening eyes. ‘‘You may go now.’’ So Jimmy did, unconvinced. ‘‘And I think it’s best if you _don’t_ mention any of this to her.’’ His gaze intensified, but Jimmy thought it looked almost pleading. He nodded curtly and left to find her.

They went up eventually. During the night they drank some, danced some more and talked the rest of the time. It was a fun party, but maybe that was because it was the only party of this nature they ever attended.

Jimmy waited until the third time he noticed Mr Carson shaking to go find Thomas. They had kept separate, so as not to be too obvious. The only time they tried to talk casually, Jimmy had lifted his hand mid conversation and, without thought, tenderly tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. He snatched his hand back as soon as he realised what he was doing, but Thomas looked like he could be knocked down with a feather. They didn’t even check to see if anyone had noticed, just walked away rapidly to opposite ends of the room.

Now, Jimmy found him talking to the Dowager which was always a funny picture. Jimmy though they were a good match in wit, each of them in their own way. He approached slowly, trying to tone down the urgency in his step.

‘‘Good evening, Lady Grantham.’’ He greeted. Thomas looked at him a little surprised, but Jimmy didn’t meet his eyes yet.

‘‘Good evening, James, is it?’’ He nodded. ‘‘Oh, yes, congratulations on your new shop.’’ She smiled sincerely, and Jimmy was about to thank her just as sincerely when he realised he hadn’t told any one about it yet. Particularly not Thomas.

‘‘My what?’’ He asked, bewildered.

‘‘Your new shop. I was in Yok the other day, my maid had mentioned a new opening, so I thought I’d check it out. One gets bored so easily in the country at my age.’’ She looked Thomas’ way then, complaining about her mortality. ‘‘And I thought I recognised the owner. It turns out his father was a highly trusted music engineer who worked very closely with my late husband.’’ She looked at the both of them like she was telling the most enticing story. Jimmy was terrified out of his mind and Thomas was desperately trying to connect the dots. ‘‘He was a fanatic of those blasted instruments, he always chose the loudest ones. Anyway, Mr Ronan mentioned he’d be sending someone to work the shop instead of coming all this way himself, because of some health problem or other. _Why_ people insist on London so much is beyond me.’’ She rolled her eyes and swung her stick around subtly. ‘‘Well, that’s when he mentioned your name.’’ She was smiling again, her eyes encouraging him to say something, but he was quite at a loss for words. ‘‘It is your name, no? James Kent?’’ She looked at Thomas for confirmation when no one spoke.

‘‘It is. It certainly is.’’ Thomas was now looking at him, all confusion wiped from his face. He looked ready to kill. Jimmy chuckled nervously.

‘‘Sorry, yes, that’s me. I am terribly excited.’’ He said to her. ‘‘I do apologise, but I’ve come to snatch you away. I need you for something.’’ He turned to Thomas and sent him a worried look that conveyed both apologies and all the seriousness he could muster, hoping Thomas would follow him unquestioningly.

‘‘Oh, thank heavens.’’ Lady Grantham said. ‘‘Barrow here makes for excellent conversation, but I don’t think I can stay upright a second longer.’’ She said, turning around and leaving for the closest chair.

Thomas opened his mouth to bombard him with questions, but Jimmy just grabbed his arm.

‘‘ _Later_ ,’’ He said, rising his eyebrows with finality and dragging him across the room. ‘‘come with me now.’’

They made their way to the table where Carson was serving drinks. Jimmy couldn’t have timed it better because as soon as they were in line of vision, his hands started trembling again, sending him into a fit of muffled cusses and protests.

‘‘Mr Carson, what’s the matter?’’ Thomas was first to ask.

‘‘Nothing’s the matter, Thomas, thank you very much.’’ His voice carried all the venom it always did when he spoke to him, and the current situation wasn’t doing anything to soften it.

‘‘But that’s not true, is it, Mr Carson?’’ Jimmy asked. His wording was harsh and he didn’t hold any softness for the butler, but he made sure not to be mean about this. Carson’s eyes snapped up to him, nearly jumping out of his face. Thomas was also looking at him, his still latent frustration piling up with newfound curiosity.

‘‘You have the shakes.’’ Jimmy explained. ‘‘I had an aunt with the same thing. Didn’t kill her but it did put her out of her job.’’ He finished to let the words sink in.

‘‘I am very busy, James, so unless I can interest you in a drink, I’ll very kindly ask you to step away.’’ He growled.

‘‘Very well, then. A drink sounds lovely.’’ He said, a challenge in his eyes, but he wasn’t smiling. He didn’t want to look like he was enjoying it.

He grabbed a glass for himself and extended it to Carson. With whatever pride he still held and fifty years of loyal dedication to back him up, Carson picked up the glass with unsteady hands and attempted to pour him a drink, failing miserably. Lord Grantham had conveniently showed face just then, witnessing the whole affair.

‘‘Carson, my dear chap, are you alright?’’ He hurried over, setting his drink down and frowning at the mess on the mantel piece.

‘‘I am terribly sorry, my lord. I’ll clean this up at once.’’ He made to move but Lord Grantham was holding his hands.

‘‘For heaven’s sake, you can’t stop shaking! Cora, dear, call Dr Clarkson immediately.’’ He yelled, getting the attention of his wife but also half the party. Carson was red in the face and he seemed to be getting more tense as the situation dragged on.

‘‘Perhaps Mr Carson would prefer to go someplace quieter, my lord.’’ Mrs Hughes was saying, having appeared out of nowhere and seemingly more in control, even when this was a shock to her as well. Carson shot her a thankful look.

‘‘Anna, please help Mr Molesley clean this up.’’ He ordered as Mrs Hughes guided him downstairs with Lord Grantham on tow. ‘‘And who will take care of the drinks?’’ He asked no one in particular, desperately, and finally losing all etiquette.

‘‘Mr Barrow will do that.’’ Jimmy said hurriedly. Both him and Thomas had been watching the events unfold without so much as word. Thomas had been rendered speechless and Jimmy himself had to hold back on saying too much too soon.

‘‘He couldn’t possibly, not when he doesn’t work for us anymore.’’ Cora was saying from next to them, showing empathy with that distinctive look on her face.

‘‘I don’t mind, milady.’’ Thomas offered with a polite smile, his service smile. He finally caught up to what Jimmy was doing.

‘‘He might have to step in as butler, if Mr Carson is not fit to go on.’’ Jimmy pressed, his careful tone doing very little to soften his blunt statement. Cora’s eyebrows shot up.

‘‘You don’t think Carson will be fit to continue?’’ She asked him. Anna and Mr Molesley were next to them, now cleaning up as per Carson’s orders, so Jimmy walked closer towards Cora, letting Thomas position himself behind the table to serve an approaching guest. No one else was listening in anymore, now that Carson had gone downstairs, so Jimmy spoke only to her.

‘‘It’s nothing serious, I don’t think. But someone in my family had it and once it takes over, you can barely control your hands. I don’t think Mr Carson would want to serve in that condition.’’

‘‘No, if its as you say, I don’t think he’ll want to, either.’’ She said, quietly, her eyes wondering away from Jimmy. ‘‘Mary will be devastated.’’

‘‘But you wouldn’t have to go looking for a new butler when Mr Barrow is such an obvious choice.’’ He said again, his eyes flickering to him, fondness suddenly clouding his face before he could help it. Cora followed his gaze.

‘‘There’s an idea.’’ She said, watching him slip into the job so easily. ‘‘Mr Barrow, the last butler of Downton.’’ Jimmy thought it had a nice ring to it. ‘‘I’ll talk it over with His Lordship, but I think he’ll quite agree.’’ Cora smirked at him and, if it were pertinent, Jimmy imagined she might have winked right then.

Jimmy tried to keep himself busy the rest of the night while Thomas worked, because he knew that he was staring too much. But every time he looked over his way, he felt such a sense of pride at how _right_ it felt. And he still had to explain his own affair, but it was only good news. Thomas had a chance to be happy, properly this time. They were going to be fine.

They welcomed the new year together and when Carson came up again, Jimmy made sure to wish him happiness and good health, and actually mean it.

1926 for them started with a shared cigarette and a walk around the moonlit gardens. Originally, it had been them and a very drunk Mr Molesley but he eventually wondered off when he thought he saw a hare and made a run for it, convinced he could catch it. Thomas didn’t wait ten seconds to ask Jimmy about the shop ordeal.

‘‘So, when were you going to tell me?’’

‘‘Oh, Thomas, please don’t think I was keeping it from you. That’s exactly what I meant when I told you we needed to talk, I was going to tell you tonight.’’ Jimmy shook his head, looking away.

‘‘It wouldn’t be the first time, would it?’’

‘‘I’m not lying to you, I just got confirmation a few days ago, I wanted to tell you in person. How was I to know that old bat would get there before me? And would you really have wanted me to say I might not be coming ‘ere after all the planning we’d done? I though you were over that.’’ 

‘‘I am over that, thank you very much. And don’t disrespect Lady Grantham, she’s the only good one of the lot. But you do keep hiding things from me.’’

‘‘I thought it would kill you if I told you I’d be staying in London! You wouldn’t stop moaning about that new job, it didn’t feel right to make you more miserable.’’

‘‘I weren’t moaning, don’t be dramatic. And we wouldn’t have done any planning if you hadn’t said you were moving when you weren’t sure.’’

‘‘But I _was_ sure. Just like I was sure I could change his mind about it this last time. I convinced him to stay in London, took a near-death experience and turned it into an opportunity for us.’’ He grinned wickedly at Thomas, hoping to erase his pout.

‘‘What selfish act have you done this time?’’ He asked intrigued.

‘‘There was nowt selfish about it. I did it for the both of us, surely that’s not selfish. He’s a silly chump, that’s all, there’s no harm done. It actually might have helped, I don’t know.’’

‘‘That’s vague.’’

‘‘It’s not important. Give us another cigarette. What’s important is that I’ll be working here by next month. And so will you.’’

‘‘Will I?’’

‘‘Lady Grantham liked the idea, Lord Grantham has a resolve as strong as cotton candy, I think you’ll be fine.’’

‘‘Where will you live?’’ Thomas asked softly, and now he was looking at him, a glimmer in his eyes. He placed the cigarette on Jimmy’s lips and brought the lighter up to ignite it.

‘‘I don’t know, where will you live?’’ He grinned only after Thomas let his own smile take over.

‘‘Well, I’ve been thinking-’’

‘‘You know exactly where we’re gonna live, don’t you?’’ Jimmy interrupted.

‘‘No, not exactly.’’ Thomas started smiling despite himself. ‘‘And I never said we’re gonna live together.’’ He threw him an amused side glance.

‘‘Well, go on, then, what have you been thinking?’’

‘‘There’s this Argentinian fellow I met the other day in a pub-’’

‘‘You went to a _pub_?’’ Jimmy asked, disbelieving.

‘‘Yes, I went to a pub. Are you going to keep interrupting?’’

‘‘Sorry, go on.’’

‘‘Thank you. Anyway, he’s looking to rent out his place in Easingwold, which I thought was quite fitting because it’s sort of half way into York and Downton, although at the time I was thinking of the other house, but it still works, and-’’

‘‘Yes, let’s do it, let’s buy it.’’

‘‘No, not _buy_ it, rent it.’’

‘‘Doesn’t matter, let’s do it.’’ He nodded enthusiastically, and when they locked eyes Thomas could see the rest of their lives projected on Jimmy’s. He sucked in a deep breath.

‘‘Alright, hold your horses, there’s many things to consider. I don’t know the man that well and we haven’t even seen the flat. It might be grim.’’

‘‘Fine, then we’ll go look at it and maybe it won’t be that one. But I’m saying we should do it, rent a place together and be fake cousins and leave to work in the morning and come home to each other.’’

‘‘My word, you’ve gone terribly romantic on me.’’ Thomas teased, but his heart almost gave out at Jimmy’s words.

‘‘I mean it, Thomas. I can do it, I know I can.’’

This is a thing Jimmy often said when he proposed a big step in their relationship that Thomas couldn’t be sure he meant. Because there were still sometimes where Jimmy would have trouble processing the nature of their relationship and it freaked him out a little. His love for Thomas was unquestioning, but that didn’t bring any guarantees about how far he was willing to go. And Thomas was so respectful of it, he was often the one holding them back from moving forward.

For example, one time Thomas called Jimmy ‘love’ three times in one day and it made Jimmy cry because _it makes me_ _feel so_ lavender _I can hardly recognise myself_. That was a rough day and pet names had been discarded from their vocabulary for a month. But then Jimmy had sent four letters in one week trying to convince Thomas of renting bikes again and riding to the same stream just to have sex in the water. In November. The proposal wasn’t rejected, just postponed.

‘‘Well, maybe you can, but I don’t know if I can. I’ve been saving most of me wages, but it still might be more expensive than we can afford.’’

‘‘I’ll sell all my mirrors, then, I don’t care, we’ll do it.’’ Jimmy said, which sent Thomas laughing loudly, the kind that made his eyes crinkle, Jimmy’s personal favourite. It was a bit of an inside joke they had from the time when Thomas first visited his flat an found a collection of mirrors, at least two in every room. _It’s a small place and it helps it look bigger_ Jimmy had tried to justify. In the end, all he needed to stop Thomas from teasing was to move the big mirror in the hallway to the bedroom and show him its perks. That particular mirror might not be fit for selling after all.

‘‘Oh, then that should be enough to feed us for the rest of our long and healthy lives.’’

‘‘This is gonna be our year, Thomas. Just you wait and see.’’

Thomas had the decency to look around before leaning in and snog him right there in the middle of the gardens, and it’s a good thing he did because, had he not checked beforehand, he wouldn’t have noticed Mr Molesley just a few meters away, throwing up his dinner with strength and passion.

They spent the night at Downton because everyone was too tired or too drunk to offer them a lift back into the village. Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes left for their cottage, so did Anna and Bates and Thomas wondered what his life would look like for this next chapter. He thought about what Jimmy and he would say when the rest of the staff found out they were living together, if they could pass it as a simple, cheap arrangement or if everyone would know. He hoped they wouldn’t mind if they did, because he’d made it this far without too much harm (emphasis on _too_ ) and they were the closest thing to a family he had up until this point. He couldn’t bare to lose a family again. In a funny way, he always gravitated back to Downton.

The next day Thomas placed a hopeful call on the unlikely chance that the owner of the flat would be awake and working at three pm on New Year’s Day. Jimmy, who was standing restlessly next to him, let out a squeal of joy when he heard him pick up.

‘‘Hello, Dany. This is, um, Thomas… from the pub.’’

‘‘Not Mr Barrow?’’ Jimmy mouthed beside him and Thomas shushed him with a gesture of his hand.

‘‘Thomas Barrow! What are you up to, my friend?’’ Dany replied from the other end of the line. His English was good but there was definitely an accent there and he was speaking rather loudly.

‘‘I’m very well, how are you?’’ Thomas was sporting that shy smile he got whenever he received a young male’s attention and it didn’t seem like it would end in a fist fight. Jimmy almost felt jealous, but he tried to convince himself this is simply what Thomas looked like having friends. What a peculiar sight.

‘‘I’m glad to hear it, everything is marvellous over here! What can I do for you?’’

 _Really_ , Jimmy thought, _how eager is this bloke to talk to Thomas?_

‘‘Well, I was wondering if you’d be up for a meeting to discuss that flat in Easingwold, if it’s still up for rent.’’

‘‘Of course it is, my friend. I’ve been saving it for you.’’

‘‘Ya’ have?’’ Thomas smiled up to Jimmy, so he leaned in closer to hear his response.

‘‘Yes, yes. You sounded like you had big plans for it. Do you want to meet today?’’

‘‘Today works great. I’ll bring my cousin with me, so we can all discuss it.’’ Then he paused. ‘‘Second cousin.’’ He said, looking hesitantly at Jimmy. Jimmy just rolled his eyes.

‘‘Alright, come by my pub around 6 o’clock and bring your second cousin, we’ll do tea time the Argentinian way and we can discuss the flat.’’ Thomas laughed.

‘‘Will do, thank you, Dany.’’

‘‘See you soon, mate.’’

When Thomas hanged up a silence fell over the room.

‘‘Teatime at 6 o’clock? Do they eat dinner at midnight?’’ Jimmy asked with a frown.

‘‘Don’t make fun of other countries for having more hours of sun than we do.’’ Thomas scolded.

‘‘Whatever. So, he owns the pub, then? Is that where you met?’’ Jimmy asked as they left Carson’s pantry and made their way up to the rooms to gather their things.

‘‘It is, yeah. But he doesn’t own it, he just works there. I felt like going for a drink on my day off and decided to change it up a bit cause I hate the pubs in Ripon. He can’t bear to see a costumer drinking alone, so he came up to me and just started talking. I swear I almost told him to piss off, but he’s a really fun sort.’’

‘‘Was he chatting you up then?’’

‘‘Don’t be daft, Jimmy. You almost sound like me, getting all the wrong ideas.’’

‘‘Ah, but you weren’t that wrong about me, were you?’’ Jimmy teased.

‘‘Don’t remind me.’’

They killed some time in Thomas’ old room, skipping lunch entirely because they were still full from last night. They were sprawled on the floor and Thomas was reading a novel aloud while Jimmy drifted off, his head on Thomas’ legs. Then there was a smell.

‘‘Did you _fart_?’’ Jimmy interrupted his reading.

‘‘Excuse me?’’ Thomas raised his eyebrows at him.

‘‘Did you just fart?’’ He said, his mouth open, threatening to erupt into laughter.

‘‘I do not fart, thank you. I am better than that.’’

‘‘No ones better than farting. Not even you.’’

‘‘That’s not true, it says so in the manual, did you not read it?’’ Thomas asked offhandedly, looking back down to the book in his hands.

‘‘What manual?’’ Jimmy’s curiosity peaked so Thomas met his eyes again.

‘‘The manual.’’ At Jimmy’s blank look he kept going. ‘‘The Gentleman’s Simple Guide to a Subtly Fairy Life. You really don’t know what I’m talking about?’’

‘‘Are you ‘aving me on?’’ Jimmy sat up straight.

‘‘I am not, I can’t believe you’ve never heard of this. It’s a biannual magazine. Very popular in the big cities-’’ He couldn’t finish his sentence before he burst out laughing.

‘‘Oh my God, you are the worst!’’ Jimmy started laughing uncontrollably while hitting him in the back, the only place he could reach with Thomas folded in half, cackling.

‘‘That’ll teach you not to blame me for your gas incontinence.’’ He teased when he came to, still a bit teary-eyed.

‘‘Oh, it weren’t me, I know that much. I’ll rest easy knowing Thomas Barrow farts.’’

‘‘I don’t believe you have much say on the matter, when you go around burping all the time. And that’s not admitting it was me, by the way.’’

‘‘Oh, I won’t deny that. We are one gassy couple.’’

Thomas loved when Jimmy referred to them as a couple, but the context made him snicker once more and Jimmy giggled with him, marvelled at the way Thomas’ face moved when he laughed.

The meeting with Dany was pleasant. In Jimmy’s opinion, Thomas blushed and laughed a little too much, but he could see Dany was indeed a funny man. He offered them some ‘mate’ which was far too bitter so they declined it, Thomas with a polite _I think I’ll stick to tea but thank you very much_ and Jimmy with such an overexaggerated pinched expression that Dany just laughed at him and said something in Spanish that made Thomas laugh again. Two hours passed before they actually started talking about the flat, and Jimmy was getting fidgety with impatience by then. But it was worth the wait when they left with the promise of meeting next week to make the down payment and get the keys. Jimmy would be in London by then, making the last arrangements before packing up and moving, but Thomas would make some time, seeing as he was now in charge of his own schedule as butler of Downton. It was rushed and probably not really smart, but the price was good and they weren’t bound to find many landlords who didn’t ask too many questions. They had discussed their conditions many times, months ago when they were sure Jimmy would be moving in. This flat met almost every one of those conditions, even if they only had Dany’s word for it. The truth was Thomas had been inquiring about housing long before he talked about it with Jimmy, his own eagerness getting the better of him. And he’d been saving for it too, hoping to come up with the money to find them both a nice home. He hadn’t known Jimmy was attempting the same, cutting his visits to the pub in half and abstaining from buying every watch he saw on a shopwindow just because he thought it would make Thomas happy. They collectively had just enough for a two-bedroom and a new beginning.

Thomas started at Downton and for the first week, Carson insisted on dropping by to show him his ways and teaching him all the things Thomas already knew. He let him without too much protest because he could see how much it affected him to reach the end of his career and, in all fairness, Thomas had never met someone with more vocation than Mr Carson. Jimmy kept in contact with Dany, because although he was busy tying any loose ends with Mr Ronan, he knew Thomas was busier regaining everyone’s respect in his new position.

When moving day came around, Jimmy arrived at Easingwold in the morning and spent the day unpacking, cleaning, and napping, while Thomas only managed to sneak out for a few hours at noon. This was his last day before taking the weekend off to settle in, so he couldn’t afford too much time away. He then went back to the abbey to entertain for the evening and slipped back out to help with the last pieces of furniture that needed arranging. They hadn’t bought much, most of it was stuff they already owned, as it was cheaper to move those than buy new ones. But Thomas never had a place of his own and Jimmy had been leaving in quite a precarious state, so they took the last of their hard earned pay and invested it in one sturdy coffee table and one single fluffy couch.

The first night they spent in the flat, they celebrated with rum and a game of cards, laughing and joking about how unnecessary it felt to have a place of their own if they were just going to do the exact same thing they did everywhere else. So, after a few hours, just to prove a point, they christened the bed. They needn’t, because it was Jimmy’s old bed and it had been christened months ago, but they had their fun.

‘‘I think I’ll have to stand in the bus, tomorrow.’’ Jimmy said, stretched out naked on the bed, half on top of Thomas and staring at the ceiling.

‘‘What’s that?’’ Thomas was too worn out to comprehend words at the moment.

‘‘I don’t think I’ll be able to sit, that’s all.’’ Jimmy clarified. Thomas laughed and snuggled closer to him, breathing on his neck.

‘‘We ought to stay away from jazz and liquor if we want to have this place unpacked anywhere in the near future.’’

‘‘Thomas?’’

‘‘Hm?’’

‘‘I know you are in a blissful place right now, but I want you to know that I understand how wrong I was to treat you the way I did.’’  
  
There was silence for a while, and Jimmy wondered if Thomas had not heard him.

‘‘It’s quite alright, Jimmy, you’ve had a long day and we drank a lot. You still lasted longer than last time, don’t worry about it.’’

‘‘Oh my _God_ , I’m not talking about now, you dolt!’’ Jimmy whined and pushed him off. Thomas reluctantly sat up and Jimmy saw him holding back his laughter.

‘‘You weren’t?’’ He asked with faux innocence.

‘‘Fuck you, Thomas, I was trying to have a moment there.’’ Jimmy was blushing furiously, feeling embarrassed and exposed, but his pout weakened when Thomas hugged his middle.

‘‘I know, love, I’m sorry.’’ He said around a giggle.

‘‘I hate you.’’

‘‘What were you saying?’’

Jimmy turned to face him and when he saw genuine curiosity in his eyes, he took a deep breath.

‘‘That I know now how bad it must’ve felt, what I did to you. On my first year in Downton. I think I understand why it were so wrong, and I don’t think I could take it meself, so...’’ He paused for a moment because that was about the extent of what he had planned to say, but Thomas was still looking at him openly, so he felt the need to go on. ‘‘It was the worst thing I ever did, what I did to you. I am sorry.’’

‘‘I forgive you, Jimmy.’’

‘‘You do?’’

‘‘Yes, you noodle. I forgave you four seconds after it happened. I know you aren’t like that.’’

‘‘But I was, wasn’t I?’’

‘‘Jimmy, I’m really not fitted to cast the first stone. I don’t hold it against you.’’

‘‘Good.’’ He breathed a sigh of relief. It felt silly to doubt this way when they were lying together in the same bed in the flat that they shared. But Jimmy had never taken Thomas for granted and it was honestly alleviating to know that Thomas didn’t resent him for his actions.

‘‘What are you going to do once you start at Downton?’’ Jimmy asked after a while, half expecting Thomas to be asleep.

‘‘Set my alarm, turn on my charm, and take the bus to the village, I gather. I’ll walk the rest. I’m gonna have to wake extra early but I don’t mind.’’

‘‘The shop doesn’t open until eight, so I might miss you in the mornings.’’

‘‘We’ll get the evenings together, don’t worry. Maybe I’ll promote Andy to under butler and have him take care of the late night work, so I can come home to you.’’ He leaned down to kiss him.

‘‘Will you think of me when I’m not with you?’’ Jimmy whispered on his mouth.

‘‘Always.’’

‘‘Good, cause I’ll be thinking of you.’’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Genuinely not sure if 'fairy' is considered a slur nowadays, I did some research and it didn't look like it so I kept it as a period-typical term, but if you feel it's wrong let me know!


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